m *M2 THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES #c# m # * ^^KF * v ^w^k j£5*^:#,fl| Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2012 with funding from University of California, Los Angeles http://www.archive.org/details/johnsonianaorsupOObosw T.Z>vteerdel U\c. y$UJvu, i /■■■ £.n, "j, /,/ //■////•// /,/■/,>.?'////;//.> '// //. : N -4 3533 JOHNSONIANA; OR, SUPPLEMENT TO BOSWELL ANECDOTES AND SAYINGS OF DR. JOHNSON, COLLECTED BY PIOZZI, WINDHAM, PARKER, HAWKINS, NICHOLS, ROSE, TYERS, HUMPHRY, GREEN, HOOLE, HANNAH MORE, REED, STEEVENS, PARR, KEARSLEY, REYNOLDS, MAD. D'ARBLAY, KNOWLES, CUMBERLAND, HORNE, SMITH, CRADOCK, BARETTI, WARNER, SEWARD, LADY KNIGHT, KING, MURPHY, NORTHCOTE, BOOTHBY, BEATTIE, PERCY, PEPYS, MISS HAWKINS, STOCKDALE, &C. &C. &C. CARTER, LONDON: JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET. MDCCCXXXVI. London : Printed by A. Spottiswoode, New- Street -Square. ADVERTISEMENT. In this volume the reader has presented to him a mass of miscellaneous Anecdotes and Sayings, ga- thered from nearly a hundred different publications ; which could not be produced as notes to Boswell, without overloading and perplexing his pages, but which are essential to the completion of the intellec- tual portrait of Johnson. Taken by themselves alone, these Ana might, it is presumed, claim a place with the best books of that popular description, in our own or in any other language. They form, it will hardly be disputed, one of the richest collections of Materials for Thinking that can be pointed out in literature. 715198 A 2 TABLE OF CONTENTS. ANECDOTES AND SAYINGS OF JOHNSON : — Part I. by Mrs. Piozzi - page 1 II. — Sir John Hawkins - - - - 115 III. — Thomas Tyers, Esq. - - - 150 IV. — John Hoole, Esq. - - - 160 V. — George Steevens, Esq. - - - 173 VI. — Miss Reynolds - - - 182 VII. — Richard Cumberland, Esq. - - 207 VIII Joseph Cradock, Esq. - - 214 IX. — Mr. Wickins of Lichfield - - 222 X. — Mr. Green of Lichfield - - 225 XI. — Rev. Mr. Parker - - - - 226 XII. — Mrs. Rose - - - 229 XIII. — William Seward, Esq. - - - 232 XIV. — Ozias Humphry, R.A. - - - 235 XV. — Sir Joshua Reynolds - - - 237 XVI. — Madame D'Arblay - - 249 XVII. — Dr. Beattie - - - - - 277 XVIII. — The Right Hon. W. Windham » 281 XIX. — Hannah More - - - - 290 XX. — Bishop Horne - - 301 XXI John Northcote, R.A. - - 306 XXII. — Miss Seward - - - - 314 XXIII. — Dr. Parr - - - - 326 XXIV. — Joseph Baretti - - 338 XXV. — Bishop Percy - - - 343 XXVI. — Lady Knight - - - - 350 XXVII. — Rev. Perceval Stockdale - - 353 XXVIII. — Miss Hawkins - - 358 XXIX. — John Nichols, Esq. - - 364 XXX. — Arthur Murphy, Esq. - - 368 XXXI. Critical Remarks by Nathan Drake, M.D. 377 XXXII. Anecdotes, Opinions, and Remarks — by G. Kearsley, Sir Brooke Boothby, Dr. John Moore, R. Warner, J. T. Smith, Mrs. Knowles, Mr. Isaac Reed, W. W. Pepys, Esq., Rev. Montagu Pennington, A 3 VI CONTENTS. Mrs. Elizabeth Carter, Lord Ched worth Dr. Anderson, James Prior, Esq., Rev. W. Cole, Robert Barclay, Esq., Wil- liam Cooke, Esq., Alexander Chalmers, Esq., Rev. Vicesimus Knox, Dr. Fordyce, William Cowper, Esq., Dr. William King, Dugald Stewart, Lord Byron, Sir Walter Scott, Sir James Mackintosh, &C. &C. &C - - PAGE 393 XXXIII. Jeux d'Esprit on Johnson's Biographers. No. 1. Lesson in Biography; or, How to write the Life of One's Friend. By Alexander Chalmers, Esq. - 468 2. Dr. Johnson's Ghost. A Poem. - - -474 3. A Posthumous Work on S. Johnson. An Ode, by George Colman, Esq. - 475 4. A Poetical and Congratulatory Epistle to James Bos- well, Esq., on his Journal of a Tour to the He- brides with the celebrated Dr. Johnson. By Peter Pindar, Esq. - - - - 477 5. Bozzy and Piozzi ; or, The British Biographers. A pair of Town Eclogues. By Peter Pindar, Esq. - 484 6. Inscription on a Caricature of Johnson and Madame Piozzi by Sayers - 497 XXXIV. Brief Memoir of Boswell, by Edmond Ma- lone, Esq. ; Extracts from Boswell's Letters to Malone. — Extracts from Boswell's Tour in Corsica - - 498 Abstinence and Temperance, 296. Abuse, 57. 59- Accents, Greek, 332. Actor, 111. Addison's " Cato," 111. 130. Addison's Prose, 64. " Adventurer," 292. 334. 383. Affected Sensibility, 45. Affliction, 104. Age, 81. 192. Allegorical Painting, 125. " Amelia," 72. America, 10. Americans, 27- Amusements, 37. 86. Anacreon's Dove, 12. Anningait and Ajut, 389. Anonymous Authors, 106. Anson, Lord, Epigram on his Tern pie to the Winds, 23. Apostacy, 319- Apparitions, 6l. Arcadia, 223. Argument, 398. Arithmetic, 24. 62. 406. Arkwright, Sir Richard, 132. Art of Thinking, 237. Ascham, Roger, 78. Asperity of Manner, 136. Assertion and Argument, 398. Aston, Elizabeth, 226. 317. Aston, Molly, 49. 51. 113. 314. Attention, 4. 107. 109. Authority, parental, 6. Authors, 40. 106. 121. Avarice, 47. CONTENTS. VI B. Babyhood,, 7. "Baiting the Bear," 219- Ballad Metre, 174. Barbauld, Mrs., 4. Barber, Francis, 67. Barclay, Robert, Esq., 41 6. Baretti, Joseph, his Acquaintance with Johnson, 338. — his Ac- count of Johnson at the Thrales, 339. — his Rupture with John- son, 341. Barnard, Dr., 8. 194. " Bas Bleu/' 109. 297. Bath, 236. Bathurst, Lord, 10. Baxter, Richard, 126. 292. Beattie, Dr., Anecdotes by, 277. Beauclerck, Topham, 6l. 1,96. Beauties, Johnson's, 314. " Beauties of Johnson," 153. Beggars, 27- Behaviour, 6. Belief, 6l. Benedictine Monks in Paris, 31. Benevolence, 157- 199- Benserade, M., his Verses (i a son Lit," imitated, 12. Bernard, Dr., 432. Bewley, Mr., 249- Bible, 160. Biography, 124. 413. Birch, Dr., 121. Blackmore, Sir Richard, 128. Blessing, an Old Man's, 41 6. " Blinking Sam," 76. Blue Stocking Parties, 410. Boarding Schools, 46. Bodily Exercises, 2. Bolingbroke, Lord, 38. 175. 369. Bolt Court, 290. 359. Bons Mots of Life, 30. Books, Children's, 4. Books of Travels, 102. Books, Portable, 115. 232. Boothby, Miss Hill, 50. 314. Boswell, 11. 83. 266. 280. 295. 361. 372. 415. 434. — Memoir of, by Malone, 498. — his Letters to Malone, 503. — his Tour to Corsica, 513. Boswell at full Length, 266. Boswell's Tour to the Hebrides, 280. 322. Boulter, Bishop, 185. Boyse, Samuel, 40. 365. Brentford, 84. Bright and cloudy Days, 103. Brocklesby, Dr., 158. 288. Brooke, Mrs., 293. Browne, Hawkins, 55. Browne, Sir William, his Epigram on the Universities, 9' Bruce, Abyssinian, 12 9. Buckingham, Duke of, his ' ' Re- hearsal," 16. 439. Building without a Scaffold, 406. Burke, Edmund, 10. 74. 140. 21 6. 313. 361. 415. Burney, Dr., 43. 233. 250. Burney's " History of Music," 190. 233. 253. 334. Burney, Miss, 68. See D'Arblay. Burton, Robert, 102. Byron, Lord, on the " Vanity of Human Wishes," 453. — On the " Lives of the Poets," 453. Cabin, The, 436. Calamities, 100. Calumny, 229- Cambridge, 8. Cambridge Richard Owen, Esq. 466. Camps, 104. Canters, 78. Canting, 18. 30. Capel, Edward, 176. Cards, 38. Caricatura Imitation, 21. Carter, Mrs. 1 16. — on Johnson' Death, 411. Carving, 202. Catholic Burials, 317- Catiline and Tom Thumb, 26. i( Cato," 111. 130. A 4 Vlll CONTENTS. Cato's Soliloquy, 227- Cats, 81. Cave, Edward, 366. 396. Ceremony to Ladies, 192. Chalmers, Alexander, Esq. on Johnson's " Lima? Labor," 423. — his " Lesson on Bio- graphy; or How to write the Life of one's Friend," 4*68. Change, Love of, 407. Charities, 239. Charity, 28. 36. 135. 228. 251. Charles the Twelfth, 355. Chat, Unprofitable, 6\. Chaulnes, Due de, 115. 233. Chester, Johnson at, 432. Chesterfield, Lord, his Son, 121. Cheyne, Dr., 102. Children, Education of, 5. 7. Children, poor People's, 7. Children, showing off, 2. Children's Books, 4. China, 288. Choice of a Wife, 77. 406. Cholmondeley, Mr., 82. Christian Religion, 115. 233. Churchill, Charles, 57- 129- 151. Churchmanship, Johnson's, 331. Cibber, Colley, 413. " Clarissa Harlowe," 63. 72. 182. 307. Clarke, Dr. Samuel, 124. 168. 289- Climbing, 227- Clive, Kitty, 177- Clubs, 220. Coach, 89. Cobb, Mrs. 318. Cock-lane Ghost, 151. Cold Baths, 222. Colloquial Eloquence, Johnson's, 397. Colman, George, 133. — his " Posthumous Work of S. Johnson, an Ode," 475. Commandment, Seventh, 133. Commerce, projected Dictionary of, 395. Compassion, 106. Complainers, 121. 36'2. " Completely wicked Man," 308. Compliments, 66. 102. 312. Composing, Johnson's manner of, 344. Composition, 135. 155. 175.341. Compton, Rev. James, 31. Computation, 106. Conclusions, 307. Conferring Favours, 87. Confidence with respect to Fu- turity, 110. Congreve's Mourning Bride, 16. Conscience, Scruples of, 73. Conscience and Shame, 197* Contradiction, 43. 72. Convents, 31. j f . Conversation, 30.^.-^. £$. &£• 155.259. *?? Corneille and Shakspeare com- pared, 17- Cotterell, Miss, 193. Country Life, 85. Couplet, Favourite, 231. Courtship, Johnson's, 315. Cowley, Abraham, 129- Cowley, Rev. Mr., 31. Cowper, William, on Bos well's Life of Johnson, 436. — on Johnson's Life of Watts, 448. — his Epitaph on Johnson, 450. Coxe, Rev. William, 412. Cradock, Mr., Anecdotes by, 214. Criticism, 105. Cultivation of Memory, 7. Cumberland, Richard, Esq., Anec- dotes by, 207- Cunning, superfluous, 87. Curiosity, 307. Cyrus, 7. D. Dancing, 38. Dancing-Master, 3$. Dangers of Solitude, 36. D'Arblay, Madame, Anecdotes by, 249- Daughters, 37. David, King, 427- Days, bright and cloudy, 103. . Death, 59- 108. 121. 225. 349 372. 387. CONTENTS. Death of Hercules, 282. Deception, 222. De Lolme, M., 292. " Derange/' 118. Devotion, 30. Dialogues in Imitation of John- son's Style of Conversation, 238. 363. Diary, Keeping a, 104. Dictionaries, 107. Dictionary, The, 14. 153.346.467. " Dido," Reed's Tragedy of, 365. Diligence, 218. Dinner at Dilly's, 319- Dinner at University, 429. Disappointment, 103. Disguise, 86. Disorders of Intellect, 390. Distressed Authors, 40. Distresses, Metaphysical, 296. Distresses of Friends, 28. Diversion, 86. Divine Service, 117. Divines, old English, 123. 247- Dockers, 229. Doctoring one's-self, 179* Dodd, Dr., 117. 419- Dogs, 45. 81. Doing Good, 223. Domestic Companions, 109- Domestic Tragedies, 100. Don Quixote, 91- Donne versus Pope, 427- Dove, Anacreon's, 12. Dovedale, Johnson at, 418. Drake, Dr. Nathan, his Critical Remarks on " London," 377. — on the " Vanity of Human Wishes," 379- — on " Irene," 380. — on " Stanzas on Robert Levett," 382.— on « Rambler" and "Adventurer," 383. — on "Rasselas," 389- — on "Pre- face to Shakspeare," 3^i. — on " Lives of the Poets," 39 1. — on his "Letters," 392. — "Ser- mons," 392. — " Prayers and Meditations," 392. Dreams, 4. Dress, 38, 92. Drunkenness, 356. Dryden, John, 16. 388. Dulness, 70. " Dying with a Grace," 1 10. E. Early Puritans, 11 9. Education of Children, 5. 105. 133. Ellsfield, 436. Embellishing a Story, 124. Emigration from Scotland, 396. English Divines, Old, 123. English Universities, 329. Equality, 11 7. Erudition, 62. Erasmus, 283. (i Essay on Man," 184. Essex- Head Club, 373. Eton, 70. Eucharist, 408. " Evelina," 257- E very-day Knowledge, 3. 62. Evil Propensions, 189. Exercise, 104. Exercises, Bodily, 2. Expiatory Penance, Johnson's ex- traordinary, 399. Eye-sight, 158. 173. F. Fact, Historical, 25. Faden, Mr., 367- f •' Fair Penitent," 111. FalstafY, 64. Family Prayers, 414. Farmer on Shakspeare, 311. Fat Oxen, 21. Favourite Couplet, 231. Favourite Verses, 184. Favours, 87. Fawkes's Anacreon, 12. Fear, 90. Fear of Death, 121. 225. 349, 372. 387. Female Friendship, 183. Female Gluttony, 106. " Fiat experimentum," &c, 123. CONTENTS. " Fiddle-de-dee," 230. Fielding, 72. 293. 451. Filial Obedience, 101. Fitzherbert, Mrs., 49. Flattery, 57. 102. 106. Foote, Samuel, 55. 116. Foppish Lamentations, 36. Ford, Parson, 3. Fordyce, Dr., on the Death and Character of Johnson, 444. Forgiveness of Injuries, 385. Fortune, Influence of, 192. « Forty-five," 194. French Academy, Pleasantry on, 15. French Invasion, 26. French Literature, 91. Friendship, 48. Friendships, 124, 123. Friendships, Old, 108. Friends, Distresses of, 28. Frolic, Ill-timed, 39- Futurity, Confidence with respect to, 110. G. Gaiety, 41. Gardening, 85. Garrick, David, 9. 16\ 59. 111. 120. 203. 210. 215. 224. 255. 291.295. 355. 421. Garrick and Toryism, 9« Garrick cited in the Dictionary, 421. Garrick's Library, Johnson in, 418, Gastrel, Mrs., 227- General Knowledge, 3. General Polity, 25. General Principles, 3. General Rules, 6. General Satire, 38. 87- Genius, 197. 271. Gentlemen, 48. Gesticulations, 155. 200. Ghosts, 4. 6l. Giving away Literary Productions, 13. Gibbon, Edward, 217- Glasgow and Brentford, 84. Gluttony, Female, 106. Goldsmith, Oliver, 56. 75. 133 185. 216. 278. 309- Good Breeding, 8. 191. Good Hater, 27. 198. Good Work, 282. Government, 130. Graham, Rev. George, 57- Grammar, 406. Gray, 431. 451. Greek, 151. Greek Accents, 332. Greek, Johnson's Proficiency in, 15. 151. Green, Mr., Anecdotes by, 225. Grief, 101. 104. Grottoes, 65. H. Hammond, Dr. Henry, 129- Han way, Jonas, 152. Happiness,*; 11 9. Harris's (< Hermes," 221. Harry, Jane, 319- 402. Hartley on Man, 407- Hater, a good, 27- Hawkesworth's " Ode on Life," 395. Hawkins, Miss, Anecdotes by, 358. Hawkins, Sir John, Anecdotes by, 115. Hayley, William, 230. Hearth-broom, Johnson's, 249. Heberden, Dr., 288. 366. Hercules, Death of, 282. Hercules, Infant, 233. " Hermit of Warkworth," 218. Heroic Virtues, 30. Historical Fact, 25. Hoarding, 47. " Hodge," Johnson's Cat, 354. Hodge's Oysters, 81. Hodges, Nathaniel, 127- Holcke, Count de, 437. Holy day's Juvenal, 288. Homer, 281. " Honest Whigs," 417- Honey -suckle Wives, 53. Honour. 25. 65. CONTENTS. Hoole, John, Esq., his Account of Johnson's last Illness, 160. Hope, 6l. Home, Bishop, his Character of Johnson and his Writings, 301. Human Life, 30. 47. 6*3. 107. Hume, a David, 32. 123. 133. Humour, 135. Humphry, Ozias, Esq., Anecdotes by, 235. Hunter, Dr., 226. Hunting, 66. 397. 4,21. Husband and Wife, 46. Hyperbole, 30. Hyperbolical Praise, 106. 1. I ago, 64. Idle Curiosity, 307- Idleness, 282. Idler, The, 217- Ignorance, 62. 70. Ill-timed Frolic, 39. " II volto sciolto," &c. 76. Imagination, 197* Improvement, 119. ai Improvvisation, 52. Incommunicative Taciturnity, 108. Incredulity, 42. Infant Hercules, 233. Infidels, 32. Infinite Number, 24. Infinitude, 25. Influence of Age, 192. Influence of Fortune, 192. Ingenuity, Superfluous, 76. Initials, 108. Iniquity of Revenge, 384. Inn, 183. Inscription on a Caricature of Johnson and Madame Piozzi, by Sayers, 497. Intimacies, 124. Intoxication, 356. Introductions and Conclusions, 307. Invasion, French, 26. Investment of Money, 408. " In Vino Veritas/' 83. Invitations to Dinner, 135. Iona, Johnson at, 450. " Irene," 111. 380. J. Jane Shore, 64. Jansenists, 297- Jenyns, Soame, 24. Jesting, 39- Jesuits, 297. Jeux d'Esprit on Johnson's Biogra- phers, 468. Jews, I69. Johnsonian Words, 421. Johnson's Nurse, 4. Johnson, Michael, 463. 464. Johnson, Mrs. 45. 46. 49. 51. 176.315. Johnson and Garrick, Busts of, in Lichfield Cathedral, 464. Johnson and the Thrales, 339. Johnson and Peter Pindar, 311. Johnson at Dovedale, 418. — at Langton, 419- — in Garrick's Library, 42 8 . — in a Stage Coach, 428. — in the Salisbury Stage, 441 . — on Horseback, 66. — at Table, 202. | Johnson — his Portrait by himself, 13. 369. 386.— his Charity, 28. 36. 135. 157- 199- 228. 252.— his " Beauties/' 314. — his Courtship, 315. — his Agility, 435.— his Dress, 193. 358.— his Piety, 30. —his Incredulity, \ 41. — his love of Contradiction, ) 43. — his Dread of Death, 59. 60. — his Promptitude of Thought, 65 his Pride and Severity, 71. 310. — his Political Creed, 130. — his Powers of Conversation, 134. 155. 238. 397. 431.— his Library, 153. — his Funeral, 179- 331.— his Gesticulations, 155. 200. — his Recitation, 199. — his Personal Peculiarities, 343. — his Man- ner of Composing, 344. — his Kindness of Heart, 252. — his CONTENTS. Humility, 253. — his Journey to the Hebrides, 277- — his Dying Advice, 397- Johnson — Account of his last Ill- ness, and Death, by Mrs. Piozzi, 112 — by Sir John Hawkins, 136. by Mr. Tyers, 158.— by Mr. Hoole, 160. — by Madame D'Ar- blay, 269.— by the Right Hon. William Windham, 284.— by Hannah More, 298. — by Mr. Pepys, 298. Johnson — his Character, by Mrs. Piozzi, Q5 by Miss Reynolds, 205.— by Mr. Cumberland, 211. — by Bishop Home, 301. — by Lady Knight, 352.— by Arthur Murphy, Esq., 373. — by the Rev. Vicesimus Knox, 444. — by Sir Walter Scott, 453.— by Sir James Mackintosh, 455. Johnson, Portraits of, 136. 310, 394. 400. Johnson's Willow, 420. Jones, Sir William, 451. Jortin's Sermons, 128. '.? Joseph Andrews," 293. Juvenal, Johnson's Imitations of, 333. K. Kaimes, Lord, 126. 129- Keeping a Diary, 104. Kelly, Hugh, 118. Kempis, "De Imitatione Christi," 128. 166. Kettel Hall, Oxford, 430. Kindness, 106. " King David," 427- King, Dr. William, on Johnson's English, 450. Kippis, Dr., 225. Knight, Lady, her Character of Mrs. Johnson, 350. — of Miss Williams, 351. — of Johnson, 352. " Know Yourself," 370. Knowledge, 384. Knowledge of Life, 86. 156. Knowledge, Every Day, 362. Knowles, Mary, 3 1 9. — her Theo- logical Dialogue with Johnson, 319. 402. Knox, Dr., on the Character of Johnson, 442. — on Johnson's te Prayers and Meditations," 443. Labour, 104. Laced Coats, 48. Lad of Parts, 125. Ladies, Learned, 11 6. 312. Lamentations, foppish, 36. Langton, Bennet, 198. 359. — his Letter on Johnson's Death, 429- Languages, 232. Late Hours, 154. 178. 220. Late Marriages, 3. Latin, 133. 282. 283. Lauder's Forgery, 366. Law, 38. 122. Law's "Serious Call," 137- Law Student, Distribution of the Time of a, 122. Lawrence, Dr., 23. Laziness, 133. Lear, 64. Learned Ladies, 11 6. 312. Leasowes, 121. Leave-taking of the Thrales, 1 34. Legendary Stories, caricatured, 20. C( Lesson in Biography, or how to write the Life of one's Friend," 133. 282. 283. 468. Letters, 166. 392. Levett, Robert, 40. 153. 347- 382. Library, 153. Lichfield, 364. Lichfield, Johnson's last Visit to, 324. Lichfield Cathedral, Busts of John- son and Garrick in, 464. Life, 27. 30. 47. Life, Knowledge of, 86. 175. Life of a Sailor, 91. " Limae Labor," Johnson's, 423, Liquors, Strong, 154. CONTENTS. Xlll Literature, 70. Literary Club, 4!. 295. Literary Merit, 330. Literary Productions, giving away, 13. Little Books, 232. " Lives of the Poets," 220. 227- 264. 279- 364. 391. 451. Living, Art of, 86. "London," 377. 451. "Looking at the Backs of Books, 466. Love, 67. 183. Love of Change, 407. Love of Literature, 406. Lovers' Quarrels, 45. Luck with Pupils, 74. Lumieres, Les, 32. Lyttelton, Lord, 121. 231. 294. 409. « Lycidas," 324. M. Macaulay, Mrs. 117- 129- Macdonald, Flora, 322. Mackintosh, Sir James, on the Character of Johnson, 455. Macpherson, 83. Madness, 123. 389- Mallet, David, 133. 175. Man, a completely wicked, 308. Man, a respectable, 41 6. MandeviUe, 28. 129- Mandeville's Travels, 288. Manuscripts, reading, 324. Markland, Jeremiah, 78. Marriage, 33. 406. Marriages, late, 3. Marrying for Money, 80. Matrimonial Disputes, 46. Matrimony, 125. " Measure for Measure," 388. Mimicry, 135. Mind, 63. 186. Mingling with the World, 103. Miracles/ 169. 286. Miseries of our Neighbours, 46. Miseries, Sentimental, 28. Modern Politics, 26. Money, Investment of, 408. Money, Marrying for, 80. Money, Want of, 80. Montagu, Mrs. 58. 66. 231. 233. 278. 294. 409- Montmorenci, Due de, 233. Moral Virtue, 30. Morality, 191. Morbid Melancholy, I89. More, Hannah, 57. IO9. 1.98. 290. 441. Mortification, 306. " Mourning Bride," 16. Mudge, Zachary, Johnson's Cha- racter of, 327. Murphy, Arthur, Esq., Anecdotes and Remarks by, 368. Music, 126. 151. 190. 234. 249- 334. 427- Mysteriousness, 87. Mystery, 118. N. National Debt, 24. Nature, 120. Nazianzen, Gregory, Johnson de- scribed by, 329. Necessity of adapting Knowledge to the Purposes of Life, 383. Needle- work, 88. " New Manner of Writing," 18-. Newspaper Abuse, 59. New Testament, 284. Newton, Sir Isaac, 451. Nice People, 88. Nichols, John, Esq., Anecdotes and Remarks by, 364. Nicknames, 76. Night, 17. CONTENTS. " Nil Admirari/' 104. " No Letters in the Grave/' 166. Nolleken's Bust of Johnson, 400, Northcote, John, R.A., Anecdotes by, 306. " Nullum Numen abest," &c, 70. Number, 24. Numeration, 24. Numbers, Round, 124. Nurse, Johnson's, 4. O. Obedience, Filial, 101. « Ocean," 423. Odyssey, 281. " CEdipus," 214. Officers, 48. Oglethorpe, General, 378. Old Age, 91- 212. Old English Divines, 123. 247. Old Friendships, 108. "Old Man's Blessing," 416. Opinion, 6l. Opinion of the World, 78. 122. Original Sin, 1 87. Osborne knocked down with a Folio, 393. Ossian, 83. 440. Ovid's Fasti, 282. Oxford, 8. 296. 430. Painting, 34. 151. 190. 308. Painting, Allegorical, 125. Palmyra, 33. " Panting Time/' 431. Parental Authority, 6. Parents, 6. Parker, Rev. Mr., Anecdotes by, 226. Parliament, Seat in, 105. Parliamentary Debates, 366. Parnell's " Hermit," 208. Parr, Dr., Johnson's recommend- ation of, 326. — Anecdotes and Remarks by, 326. — his pro- jected Life of Johnson, 326. — on Johnson's Funeral, 331. — on Johnson's Churchmanship, 331. — on Johnson's Monument, 332. — First Interview with Johnson, 335. — on his t( Prayers and Meditations," 336. Party Heat, 436. Pascal Lamb, 286. Pascal, Pen sees de, 24. 294. Pathetic in Poetry, 64. Patriots, 132. Pearce, Bishop, 332. Peas, Young, 18. Pembroke College, 296. Penance, Voluntary, 31. Pepys, W. W., Esq., 43. 409. Percy, Bishop, Anecdotes and Re- marks by, 20. 174. 217, 218. 343. Percy, Mrs. 21 6. Personal Peculiarities, 343. " Peter Paul Rubens," 311. Physic, 38. Physicians, 38. 11 7. Picture of Himself, Johnson's, 369. Piety, 30. "Pilgrim's Progress," 428. Pindar, Peter, 311. — his "Poet- ical and Congratulatory Epistle to Boswell," 477. — his "Bozzy and Piozzi, or the British Bio- graphers," 484. Piozzi, Mr. 323. 397. Piozzi, Mrs. 93. 323.— her Cha- racter of Johnson, 95. Plague in London, 127. Player, 111. Pleasure, 37- Pleasure of Hunting, 427- Pleasures of Hope, 431. Plymouth, Trip to, 310. Poetry, Religious, 130. Politics, Modern, 26. Pomponius Gauricus, 434. Poor, 27. Poor People's Children, 7' Poor, Treatment of the, 27. Pope, Alexander, 16. 125. 174. 184. Pope's Homer, 355. Pope's Satires, 427- CONTENTS. Porridge Island, 35. Portable Books, 115. 232. Porter, Lucy, 72. 314. 318. Porter, Mrs., Tragedian, 107- Portraits of Johnson, 136. 310. 394. 400. Positive and General, 6. Possession, 6l. Potter, Robert, bis Verses pa- rodied, 19- Poverty, 80. Poverty and Mortification, 306. Poverty of Sentiment, 6.9. Practice, 11 6. Praise, 102. 106. 124. " Prayers and Meditations," John- son's, 336. 392. 423. 443. Prayers, Family, 414. Preachers, 126. Precepts and Practice, 11 6. Pride, 71. 310. Principles, 3. 102. Prior, 29. Professions, 78. Promptitude of Thought, 65. Prophecies, 189- Propensions, Evil, 189- Prospects, 35. 84. Psalmanazar, George, 55. 119- Public Abuse, 57. Public Education, 329. Public Schools, 70. 329. Public Opinion, 122. Pulteney, William, 132. Punic War, 25. Punishments, 187- Puns, 122. Pupils, 74. Pursuit of Virtue, 385. Puritans, 11 9. 292. Purposes, 109. Q. Quarrels, 45. Quick Reading, 184. Quixote, Don, 91. R. Ramei, The, 208. "Rambler, The," 110. 153. l6l. 348. 383. Rank, 38. "Rape of the Lock," 114. Rapidity of Composition, 135. 155. "Rasselas," 327. 389- 431. Raynal, Abbe, 33. 299. Reading, Art of, 14. 151. 184. Reading Manuscripts, 324. Reading and Study, 36l. Rebuke to a talkative Lady, 405. Recitation, 199. 417- Red-hot Balls, 41. Refinement, 45. "Rehearsal," 16.439- Religion and Morality, 191- Religious Education, 105. Religious Poetry, 130. 449. Republicans, 191. Respect, 109. Respectable Man, 41 6. Resentment, Iniquity of, 384. Retirement from the World, 79- 122. Reynolds, Sir Joshua, 34. 66. 236,- 237. 240. 313. 362. Reynolds, Miss, Anecdotes by, 1 82 . Revenge, Iniquity of, 384. Richardson, Samuel, 59- 173. 182. 293.307. 451. Richardson on Painting, 308. Ridicule, 229. " Rio verde, rio verde," translated, 20. Rising in the World, 11 6. Robertson, Dr., 18. Rochefoucault, 29. 408. Rollin, 7. Romance, 63. Romantic Virtue, 118. 232. Rose, Mrs., Anecdotes by, 229- Round Numbers, 124. Rowe's Lucan, 283. Roxana and Statira, 219- 364. Royal Society, 225. Rubens, Peter Paul, 311. Rude Speech, 221. CONTENTS. Sabbath Breakers, 299- Sacrament, 408. Sailor, Life of a, 91. Sanderson, Bishop, 143. Sarcasms, 87. Sastres, Mr., 113. Satire, 38. Savage, Richard, 349. 394. 415. Saying good Things, 312. Scepticism, 196. — Eleven Causes of, 414. Schoolmaster's Son, 7- Schoolmasters, 7. 118. Schools, Public, 70. Scotch Gooseberries, 396. Scotland, 54. Scotland, Emigration from, 396. Scott, Sir Walter, on the Life and Writings of Johnson, 453. Scoundrel, 123. Scruples of Conscience, 73. Scruples, Unnecessary, 3Q. Seat in Parliament, 105. Secrecy, 118. 407. Seduction, 37. Seeing Shows, 103. Sentiment, Distresses of, 28. Sentiment, Poverty of, 69. Sentimental Miseries, 28. " Sermons," Johnson's, 392. Severity, 45. 7 1. Seward, William, Esq., Anecdotes by, 232. Seward, Anna, 226. — Anecdotes by 314. Sex, 361. Shakspeare, 7- 224. 233. 311. Shakspeare, Johnson's Preface to, 334. 391. 430. Shame, 21 9. " She Stoops to Conquer," first representation of, 208. Shenstone, William, 127. 141. " Showing off Children, 2. Shows, 103. Sickness, 55. 59. 110. Sick-beds, 55. Siddons, Mrs., 111. Silver Tea-pot, Johnson's, 401. Similitudes, Unconscious, 328. Singularity, 37- Skaiting, 44. Sleepy-souled Wives, 53. Smalridge, Dr., 124. Smart, Christopher, 150. Smith, Adam, 415. Sober, in The Idler, 13. Society, 122. 220. Soldier, 55. Solitude, 36. 102. 386'. 390. Solitary Piety, 386. Son of a Schoolmaster, 7- Sorrow, 105. Sorrows of Vanity, 75. Sour Small Beer, 54. Spectacles, 173. Speech, a Rude, 221. Spirits, 6l. Ci Stat magni nominis/' &c, 283„ Steele, Sir Richard, 17. Steevens, George, Esq., 173. 176. Sterne's Sermons, 223. Steward, Dugald, on the " Lives of the Poets." 451. Stockdale, Perceval, Anecdotes by, 353. Story-telling, 55. 124. 433. Stow Hill, 226. Stourbridge School, 343. Streatham, 152. 257- Streatham Gallery, 114. 251, Streatham Library, 251. Strong Facts, 17. Strong Liquors, 154. Study, 197. 361. Styles of Writing, 282. Sunday, 199, 367- Superfluous Cunning, 87. Superfluous Ingenuity, 76. Suspicion, 133. Sympathy, 188. Swift, Johnson's Dislike of, 345. Swift, Style of, 17- Swift's Verses on his own Death, 288. Swift's Tale of a Tub, 353. — his Journal to Stella, 354. CONTENTS. u. Table, Johnson at, 202. Taciturnity, 108. Tale of a Tub, 353 Talents, 62. Talk of the Sick, 110. Talkative Lady, Rebuke to a, 405. Talking one's best, 187. Taylor, Dr., 112. 180. 362. Taylor, Jeremy, 127, 128. Tea, 126. 152. 308. Tea-pot, Johnson's Silver, 401. Tea-table, Johnson at, 207- Temperance, 296. Thought, Promptitude of, 65. Thrale, Mr., 60. 134. 177- 278. 339. 348. 396. — Johnson's Epitaph on, 462. Thrale, Mrs., 152. 198. 278. 314. 360. Thrales, Johnson's Leave-taking of the, 134. Thurlow, Lord, 158. 36l. Time, 133. "Time to go to Bed," 178. « Tired of London," 406. To-morrow, 101. Tom Thumb and Catiline, 26. " Tom Jones," 293. Tones, 130. " Too many Irons in the Fire," 293. Tory and Whig, 328. Toryism and Garrick, 9« Tragedies, Domestic, 100. Trapp, Dr., his Epigram on the Universities, 9« Travellers, 102. Travelling, Use of, 102. Treatment of the Poor, 27. Tristram Shandy, 221. Trotter's Portrait of Johnson, 394. Truth, 72. 327- 347. Tucker, Dean, 292. Tunbridge Wells, Johnson at, 408. Turnpike Roads, 283. Tyers, Thomas, Anecdotes by, 150 — his Character by Johnson, 150. n. Unconscious Similitudes, 328. Universal History, 56. Universities, English, 329. University College, Dinner at, 429- Unnecessary Scruples, 39« Unprofitable Chat, 6l. Urns, 222. Use of Travelling, 102. Useful Knowledge, 70. 384. Useless Singularity, 37. Uttoxeter, Johnson's extraordinary expiatory Penance at, 399* V. Vacuity of Life, 47. " Vanity of Human Wishes," 333. 379. 453. " Venice Preserved," 309- Venus de' Medicis, 223. Veracity, 72. Verses, Johnson's favourite, 184. "Vesuvius Caesar," 433. Virgil, 283. Virtue, 30. 385. Virtue, Romantic, 118. 232. Virtues, Heroic, 30. Visitors, 109. Voltaire, 127. 233. Volubility, 11 6. Voluntary Penance, 31. Vows, 72. 101. W. Wales and Scotland, 54. Waller, Edmund, 166. Walmesley, Gilbert, 226. 228. Walpole, Sir Robert, 131. 232. Walton, Isaac, 143. Want of Memory, 396. Want of Money, 80. War, 126. Warburton, Bishop, 120. 354. 361. Warren, Dr., 225. XV111 CONTENTS. Warton, Dr. Joseph, 253. Warton, Rev. Thomas, his Style parodied, 19- Watch and Punch-bowl, Johnson's, 401. Watts, Dr., 448. Watts's ee Improvement of the Mind," 128. Weariness, 104. What is Love? 183. Whig and Tory, 328. Whiggism, 19-27. 130. Whigs, 27. 130. 417. Whining Wives, 53. Wicked Man, a completely, 308. Wickedness of the World, 30. Wickins, Mr., Anecdotes by, 222. Wife, Choice of, 77. 406. Wilks, Rev. Joseph, 31. Williams, Miss, 347- 351. Willow, Johnson's, 420. Windham, Right Hon. William, Anecdotes by, 281. Wine, 83. Wise, Francis, 436. Wits, 23 . Wives, 46. 53. Wood on Homer, 282. World, 48, 53. World, Mingling with, 103 o World, Opinion of, 78. World, Retirement from, 79« Wotton, Sir Henry, 282. Writing, 406". Writing, new Manner of, 18. X. Xenophon, 7- Yearsley, Anne, 270. Young, Dr., his Description of Night, 17. — his Writings cha- racterised, 17. — his Character of " Rasselas," 327. Young Peas, 18. LIST OF PLATES. Page I. Full length Portrait of Johnson in the dress worn by him on the Journey to the Hebrides. To face the Title. " Dr. Johnson wore a full suit of plain brown clothes, with twisted buttons of the same colour, a large bushy greyish wig, a plain shirt, black worsted stockings, and silver buckles. Upon this tour, when journeying, he wore boots, and a very wide brown cloth great coat, with pockets which might almost have held the two volumes of his folio Dictionary, and he carried in his hand a large English oak stick." — Boswell. " The portrait of Johnson walking in a great coat with a large stick gives a good idea of him." — John Nichols. " Methinks I view his full, plain suit of brown, The large grey bushy wig, that graced his crown; Black worsted stockings, little silver buckles ; And shirt, that had no ruffles for his knuckles. I mark the brown great-coat of cloth he wore, That two huge Patagonian pockets bore, Which Patagonians (wondrous to unfold!) Would fairly both his Dictionaries hold. — Peter Pindar. II. View of the House in which Johnson was born, Market-place, Lichfield. From a Drawing made on the Spot, by C. Stanfield, R. A. Title Page. III. View of Lichfield, the Birth-place of Johnson. From a Drawing made on the Spot by C. Stanfield, R. A. 4 IV. Portrait of the Rev. Thomas Warton, B. A. From a Painting by Sir Joshua Reynolds - - 19 V. View of Johnson's House, No. 8. Bolt Court, Fleet Street. From a Sketch by the late J. T. Smith - 28 VI. Portrait of the Honourable Topham Beauclerk. From a Painting in the possession of Lord Holland - 58 VII. View of the Summer-house at Streatham. From a Drawing by C. Stanfield, R. A. - - 68 VIII. View of Johnson's Sitting-room in Bolt Court. Drawn by H. Corbould, from a Sketch by the late J. T. Smith - - - - 82 a 2 XX LIST OF PLATES. Page IX. Portrait of Mrs. Thrale, afterwards Mrs. Piozzi. Now ■ first engraved, from a Picture painted by Sir Joshua Reynolds, in the possession of Samuel Boddington, Esq. - - - - 1 00 X. Fac Simile of Johnson's Hand-writing - - 1 1 5 XI. Fac Similes of Autographs — Shenstone, Sacheverell, Dr. Adams, Blackstone, George Whitfield, Guthrie, Colson, R. and J. Dodsley, Colley Cibber, D. Mallet, and Peter Garrick - - - 121 XII. Portrait of Henry Thrale, Esq. Now first engraved, from a Painting by Sir Joshua Reynolds - 134 XIII. View of Mr. Thrale's House, Streatham. From a Drawing by C. Stanfield, R. A. - - 152 XIV. Portrait of Johnson. From a Painting by Barry, finished only as far as the shoulders, and copied into one of the large pictures now in the room of the Society of Arts in the Adelphi - - 160 XV. View of the Residence of George Steevens, Esq., Hampstead Heath ; and Autograph Letter - 173 XVI. View of the Residence of Kitty Clive, at Twicken- ham ; and Autograph Letter - - - 177 XVII. View of the Residence of Mr. Thomas Davies, Russell Street, Covent Garden, where Johnson and Boswell first met; and Autograph Letter - - 214 XVIII. View of Lichfield Cathedral. From a Drawing taken on the spot by C. Stanfield, R.A. - - - 221 XIX. View of the Grammar School, Lichfield, where Johnson was educated ; and of Edial Hall, near Lichfield, the Residence of Johnson in 1736 - 226 XX. Fac Simile of a Letter from Gilbert Walmesley, Esq., introducing Johnson and Garrick to the Rev. J. Colson, in 1737 - - - - 228 XXI. Portrait of James Boswell, Esq., at full Length. From an original Sketch by the late George Langton, Esq. 266 XXII. View of Edinburgh. Drawn by C. Stanfield, R.A. 277 XXIII. View of Ashbourne, Derbyshire. From a Drawing by C. Stanfield, R.A. - - - 281 LIST OF PLATES. XXI Page XXIV. View of Pembroke College, Oxford. From a Drawing by C. Stanfleld, R.A. - - -296 XXV. Fac Simile of a Letter from Edmund Hector, Esq., of Birmingham, to Mr. Boswell, relating to Miss Seward's Mistatements - - - 31 6 XXVI. Portrait of Flora Macdonald. From a Painting by Allan Ramsay - 322 XXVII. View of Johnson's House in Johnson's Court, Fleet Street. From a Drawing by the late J. T. Smith - 353 XXVIII. Whole Length Portrait of Johnson. From the origi- nal Painting in the possession of Mr. Archdeacon Cambridge - - - - 358 XXIX. Portrait of Edward Cave, Projector and Publisher of the Gentleman's Magazine - - 366 XXX. Whole Length Portrait of General Oglethorpe. From a Sketch taken, February 1785, by the late Samuel Ireland, while the General was attending the Sale of Dr. Johnson's Library at Christie's great-room in Pall Mall - - - 378 XXXI. Autograph Letter of Richard Savage - - 394 XXXII. View of St. John's Gate, Clerkenwell ; and Fac Simile of a Letter of Edward Cave - - 396 XXXIII. Head of Johnson. From a Bust by Nollekens - 400 XXXIV. Remarkable Characters who were with Richardson at Tunbridge Wells in 1748. From a Drawing in his possession, with references in his own hand-writing 408 XXXV. View of Dovedale (Reynard's Cave). From a Draw- ing by C. Stanfleld, R.A. - - 418 XXXVI. View of Kettel Hall, Oxford ; and Autograph Letter of the Rev. Thomas Warton - - 430 XXXVII. View of Chester Walls. From a Drawing by C. Stanfleld, R.A. - - - 432 XXXVIII. View of the Residence of Francis Wise, at Ellsfield, near Oxford ; with Autograph Letter - - 436' XXXIX. View of Iona. Drawn by C. Stanfleld, R. A. - 450 XX11 LIST OF PLATES. Page XL. Portrait of Michael Johnson of Lichfield, Father of Samuel Johnson. From a Drawing in the pos- session of Mr. Murray - - 464 XLI. Portrait of Richard Owen Cambridge, Esq. From an original Painting by Ozias Humphry, R. A. - 466 XLII. View of St. Andrew's. From a Drawing by C. Stan- field, R. A. - - 488 XLIII. View of Loch Lomond. From a Drawing by C. Stan- field, R. A. - - . 494 XL IV. Portrait of James Boswell, Esq. From a Painting by Sir Joshua Reynolds - - 498 " TO SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. "London, 7th June, 1785. " My dear Sir, — The debts which I contracted in my father's lifetime will not be cleared off by me for some years. I therefore think it unconscientious to indulge myself in any expensive article of elegant luxury. But in the mean time, you may die, or I may die ; and I should regret very much that there should not be at Auchinleck my portrait painted by Sir Joshua Reynolds, with whom I have the felicity of living in social intercourse. " I have a proposal to make to you. I am for certain to be called to the English bar next February. Will you now do my picture, and the price shall be paid out of the first fees which I receive as a barrister in West- minster Hall. Or if that fund should fail, it shall be paid at any rate in five years hence, by myself or my representatives. " If you are pleased to approve of this proposal, your signifying your concurrence underneath, upon two duplicates, one of which shall be kept by each of us, will be a sufficient voucher of the obligation. I ever am, with very sincere regard, my dear Sir, your faith- ful and affectionate humble servant, "James Boswell." " / agree to the above conditions. " J. Reynolds." "London, 10th Sept. 1785." XLV. Portrait of the Right Hon. Warren Hastings. From an original Miniature Painting in the possession of Mr. Upcott, by Ozias Humphry, R. A. - 504 JOHNSONIANA. JOHNSONIAN A. Part I. ANECDOTES OF DR. JOHNSON, BY MRS. PIOZZI.i 1. Introductory. I am aware that many will say, I have not spoken highly enough of Dr. Johnson ; but it will be difficult for those who say so, to speak more highly. If I have de- scribed his manners as they were, I have been careful to show his superiority to the common forms of common life. It is surely no dispraise to an oak that it does not bear jessamine ; and he who should plant honeysuckle round Trajan's column, would not be thought to adorn, but to disgrace it. When I have said, that he was more a man of genius than of learning, I mean not to take from the one part of his character that which I willingly give to the other. The erudition of Mr. Johnson proved his genius ; for he had not acquired it by long or profound study ; nor can I think those characters the greatest which have most learning driven into their heads, any more than I can persuade myself to consider the river Jenisca as supe- rior to the Nile, because the first receives near seventy tributary streams in the course of its unmarked progress to the sea, while the great parent of African plenty, flow- i First published in 1785. B 2 JOHNSONIANA. ing from an almost invisible source, and unenriched by any extraneous waters, except eleven nameless rivers, pours his majestic torrent into the ocean by seven celebrated mouths. %. Bodily Exercises. Mr. Johnson was very conversant in the art of attack and defence by boxing, which science he had learned from his uncle Andrew ] , I believe ; and I have heard him descant upon the age when people were received, and when rejected in the schools once held for that brutal amusement, much to the admiration of those who had no expectation of his skill in such matters, from the sight of a figure which precluded all possibility of personal prow- ess ; though, because he saw Mr. Thrale one day leap over a cabriolet stool, to show that he was not tired after a chase of fifty miles or more, he suddenly jumped over it too ; but in a way so strange and so unwieldy, that our terror lest he should break his bones took from us even the power of laughing. 3. Showing off Children. The trick which most parents play with their children, of showing off their newly-acquired accomplishments, dis- gusted Mr. Johnson beyond expression : he had been treated so himself, he said, till he absolutely loathed his father's caresses, because he knew they were sure to pre- cede some unpleasing display of his early abilities ; and he used, when neighbours came o' visiting, to run up a tree that he might not be found and exhibited, such, as no doubt he was, a prodigy of early understanding. His epitaph upon the duck he killed by treading on it at five years old, " Here lies poor duck," &c. is a striking example of early expansion of mind, and knowledge of language ; yet he always seemed more mortified at the recollection of the bustle his parents made with his wit, than pleased with the thoughts of possessing it. " That," i [" I had an uncle Andrew, my father's brother, who kept the ring in Smithfield (where they wrestled and boxed), for a whole year, and never was thrown or conquered." See Boswell's Johnson, vol. i. p. 312. edit. 1835.] PIOZZI. 6 said he to me one day, " is the great misery of late mar- riages ; the unhappy produce of them becomes the play- thing of dotage : an old man's child," continued he, " leads much such a life, I think, as a little boy's dog, teased with awkward fondness, and forced, perhaps, to sit up and beg, as we call it, to divert a company, who at last go away complaining of their disagreeable entertain- ment." In consequence of these maxims, and full of indignation against such parents as delight to produce their young ones early into the talking world, I have known Mr. Johnson give a good deal of pain, by refusing to hear the verses the children could recite, or the songs they could sing ; particularly one friend who told him that his two sons should repeat Gray's Elegy to him alternately, that he might judge who had the happiest cadence. " JNo, pray Sir," said he, " let the dears both speak it at once ; more noise will by that means be made, and the noise will be sooner over." 4. Parson Ford. Mr. Johnson always spoke to me of his cousin, the Rev. Mr. Ford l , with tenderness, praising his acquaint- ance with life and manners, and recollecting one piece of advice that no man surely ever followed more exactly. " Obtain," says Ford, " some general principles of every science ; he who can talk only on one subject, or act only in one department, is seldom wanted, and perhaps never wished for ; while the man of general knowledge can often benefit, and always please." He used to relate, however, another story less to the credit of his cousin's penetration, how Ford on some occasion said to him, " You will make your way the more easily in the world, I see, as you are contented to dispute no man's claim to conversation ex- cellence ; they will, therefore, more willingly allow your pretensions as a writer." 1 Cornelius Ford, according to Sir John Hawkins, was his cousin-german, being the son of Dr. Ford, an eminent physician, who was brother to Johnson's mother. — Ma lone. B c 2 4 JOHNSONIAN A. 5. Johnson's Nurse. — Children's Books. Dr. Johnson first learned to read of his mother and her old maid Catherine, in whose lap he well remembered sitting while she explained to him the story of St. George and the Dragon. The recollection of such reading as had delighted him in his infancy, made him always persist in fancying that it was the only reading which could please an infant ; and he used to condemn me for putting New- bery's books into their hands, as too trifling to engage their attention. " Babies do not want," said he, " to hear about babies ; they like to be told of giants and castles, and of somewhat which can stretch and stimulate their little minds." When in answer I would urge the nu- merous editions and quick sale of Tommy Prudent or Goody Two Shoes : " Remember always," said he, " that the parents buy the books, and that the children never read them." Mrs. Barbauld, however, had his best praise, and deserved it : no man was more struck than Mr. Johnson with voluntary descent from possible splendour to painful duty. (j. Dreams and Ghosts. I have heard him relate an odd thing of himself, but it is one which every body has heard as well as I : how, when he was about nine years old, having got the play of Hamlet in his hand, and reading it quietly in his father's kitchen, he kept on steadily enough, till, coming to the ghost scene, he suddenly hurried up stairs to the street door that he might see people about him ; such an inci- dent, as he was not unwilling to relate it, is probably in every one's possession now ; he told it as a testimony to the merits of Shakspeare : but one day when my son was going to school, and dear Dr. Johnson followed as far as the garden gate, praying for his salvation, in a voice which those who listened attentively could hear plain enough, he said to me suddenly, " Make your boy tell you his dreams : the first corruption that entered into my heart was communicated in a dream." " What was it, Sir ?" said I. " Do not ask me," replied he, with much *x piozzi. 5 violence, and walked away in apparent agitation. I never durst make any further inquiries. 7. Education of Children. Mr. Johnson was exceedingly disposed to the general indulgence of children, and was even scrupulously and ceremoniously attentive not to offend them : he had strongly persuaded himself of the difficulty people always find to erase early impressions either of kindness or resentment, and said, " he should never have so loved his mother when a man, had she not given him coffee she could ill afford, to gratify his appetite when a boy/' " If you had had children, Sir," said I, " would you have taught them any thing?" " I hope," replied he, " that I should have willingly lived on bread and water to obtain instruction for them ; but I would not have set their future friendship to hazard, for the sake of thrusting into their heads knowledge of things for which they might not perhaps have either taste or necessity. You teach your daughters the diameters of the planets, and wonder, when you have done, that they do not delight in your company. No science can be communicated by mortal creatures without attention from the scholar ; no attention can be obtained from children without the infliction of pain, and pain is never remembered without resentment." That something should be learned was, however, so cer- tainly his opinion, that I have heard him say, how educa- tion had been often compared to agriculture, yet that it resembled it chiefly in this : " that if nothing is sown, no crop," says he, " can be obtained." His contempt of the lady who fancied her son could be eminent without study, because Shakspeare was found wanting in scholastic learn- ing, was expressed in terms so gross and so well known, I will not repeat them here. The remembrance of what had passed in his own child- hood, made Mr. Johnson very solicitous to preserve the felicity of children ; and when he had persuaded Dr. Sumner to remit the tasks usually given to fill up boys' time during the holydays, he rejoiced exceedingly in the success of his negotiation, and told me that he had never B 3 6 JOHNSONIANA. ceased representing* to all the eminent schoolmasters in England, the absurd tyranny of poisoning- the hour of permitted pleasure, by keeping future misery before the children's eyes, and tempting them by bribery or falsehood to evade it. "Bob Sumner," said he, "however, I have at length prevailed upon : I know not, indeed, whether his tenderness was persuaded, or his reason convinced, but the effect will always be the same." Poor Dr. Sumner died, however, before the next vacation. 8. Positive and General, Mr. Johnson was of opinion, too, that young people should have positive, not general, rules given for their direction. " My mother," said he, " was always telling me that 1 did not behave myself properly ; that I should endeavour to learn behaviour, and such cant : but when I replied, that she ought to tell me what to do, and what to avoid, her admonitions were commonly, for that time at least, at an end." This, I fear, was, however, at best a momentary refuge, found out by perverseness. No man knew better than Johnson in how many nameless and numberless actions behaviour consists : actions which can scarcely be reduced to rule, and which come under no description. Of these he retained so many very strange ones, that I suppose no one who saw his odd manner of gesticulating, much blamed or wondered at the good lady's solicitude concerning her son's behaviour. 9. Parental Authority. Though he was attentive to the peace of children in general, no man had a stronger contempt than he for such parents as openly profess that thay cannot govern their children. " How," says he, " is an army governed ? Such people, for the most part, multiply prohibitions till obedience becomes impossible, and authority appears ab- surd ; and never suspect that they teaze their family, their friends, and themselves, only because conversation runs low, and something must be said." Of parental authority, indeed, few people thought with a lower degree of estimation. I one day mentioned the piozzi. 7 resignation of Cyrus to his father's will, as related by Xenophon, when, after all his conquests, he requested the consent of Cambyses to his marriage with a neighbouring princess ; and I added Rollin's applause and recommend- ation of the example. " Do you not perceive, then," says Johnson, " that Xenophon on this occasion commends like a pedant, and Pere Rollin applauds like a slave ? If Cyrus by his conquests had not purchased emancipation, he had conquered to little purpose indeed. Can you bear to see the folly of a fellow who has in his care the lives of thousands, when he begs his papa permission to be mar- ried, and confesses his inability to decide in a matter which concerns no man's happiness but his own ?" Mr. Johnson caught me another time reprimanding the daughter of my housekeeper for having sat down un- permitted in her mother's presence. " Why, she gets her living, does she not," said he, " without her mother's help ? Let the wench alone," continued he. And when we were again out of the women's sight who were con- cerned in the dispute : " Poor people's children, dear lady," said he, "never respect them: I did not respect my own mother, though I loved her : and one day, when in anger she called me a puppy, I asked her if she knew what they called a puppy's mother ?" We were talking of a young fellow who used to come often to the house : he was about fifteen years old, or less, if I remember right, and had a manner at once sullen and sheepish. " That lad," says Mr. Johnson, " looks like the son of a schoolmaster ; which," added he, " is one of the very worst conditions of childhood : such a boy has no father, or worse than none ; he never can reflect on his parent, but the reflection brings to his mind some idea of pain inflicted, or of sorrow suffered." 10. Cultivation of Memory. I will relate one thing more that Dr. Johnson said about babyhood before I quit the subject ; it was this : " That little people should be encouraged always to tell whatever they hear particularly striking, to some brother, sister, or servant, immediately before the impression is erased by B 4 8 JOHNSONIANA. the intervention of newer occurrences. He perfectly re- membered the first time he ever heard of heaven and hell," he said, " because when his mother had made out such a description of both places as she thought likely to seize the attention of her infant auditor, who was then in bed with her, she got up, and dressing him before the usual time, sent him directly to call a favourite workman in the house, to whom she knew he would communicate the con- versation while it was yet impressed upon his mind. The event was what she wished ; and it was to that method chiefly that he owed his uncommon felicity of remember- ing distant occurrences, and long past conversations." 11. Oxford. Dr. Johnson delighted in his own partiality for Oxford ; and one day, at my house, entertained five members of the other university with various instances of the supe- riority of Oxford, enumerating the gigantic names of many men whom it had produced, with apparent triumph. At last I said to him, " Why, there happens to be no less than five Cambridge men in the room now." u I did not," said he, " think of that till you told me ; but the wolf don't count the sheep." When the company were retired, we happened to be talking of Dr. Barnard, the Provost of Eton, who died about that time ; and, after a long and just eulogium on his wit, his learning, and his goodness of heart : " He was the only man, too," says Mr. Johnson, quite seriously, " that did justice to my good breeding ; and you may observe that I am well bred to a degree of needless scrupulosity. No man," continued he, not observing the amazement of his hearers, " no man is so cautious not to interrupt another ; no man thinks it so necessary to appear attentive when others are speaking ; no man so steadily refuses preference to him- self, or so willingly bestows it on another, as I do ; no- body holds so strongly as I do the necessity of ceremony, and the ill effects which follow the breach of it : yet people think me rude; but Barnard did me justice." "'Tis pity," said I, laughing, " that he had not heard you com- pliment the Cambridge men after dinner to-day." piozzi. y Sir William Browne the physician, who lived to a very extraordinary age 1 , and was in other respects an odd mortal, with more genius than understanding, and more self-sufficiency than wit, was the only person who ven- tured to oppose Mr. Johnson, when he had a mind to shine by exalting his favourite university, and to express his contempt of the whiggish notions which prevail at Cambridge. He did it once, however, with surprising felicity : his antagonist having repeated with an air of triumph the famous epigram written by Dr. Trapp, " Our royal master saw, with heedful eyes, The wants of his two universities : Troops he to Oxford sent, as knowing why That learned body wanted loyalty : But books to Cambridge gave, as, well discerning, That that right loyal body wanted learning." Which, says Sir William, might well be answered thus : — " The king to Oxford sent his troop of horse, For Tories own no argument but force ; With equal care to Cambridge books he sent, For Whigs allow no force but argument." Mr. Johnson did him the justice to say, it was one of the happiest extemporaneous productions he ever met with ; though he once comically confessed, that he hated to repeat the wit of a Whig urged in support of whiggism. 12. T'oryism and Garrick. Of Mr. Johnson's toryism the world has long been witness, and the political pamphlets written by him in de- fence of his party are vigorous and elegant. Says Gar- rick to him one day, " Why did not you make me a Tory, when we lived so much together ; you love to make people Tories ?" " Why," says Johnson, pulling a heap of halfpence from his pocket, " did not the king make these guineas ? " 1 He died in March, 1774, at the age of eighty-two. It is nowhere stated, that 1 know of, that this epigram was made extemporaneously on a provocation from Dr. Johnson. See an account of Sir William Browne, and a more accu- rate version of the two epigrams, in the Biographical Dictionary. — Croker. 10 JOHNSONIANA. 13. Burke. — BoswelL It was in the year 177<5 that Mr Edmund Burke made the famous speech in parliament *, that struck even foes with admiration, and friends with delight. Among the nameless thousands who are contented to echo those praises they have not skill to invent, /ventured, before Dr. Johnson himself, to applaud, with rapture, the beau- tiful passage in it concerning Lord Bathurst and the angel - ; which, said our Doctor, had I been in the house, I would have answered thus : — " Suppose, Mr. Speaker, that to Wharton, or to Marlborough, or to any of the eminent Whigs of the last age, the devil had, not with any great impropriety, con- 1 On the 22d of March, 1775, upon moving his resolutions for conciliation with America. 2 [" Mr. Speaker, I cannot prevail on myself to hurry over this great con- sideration. It is good for us to be here. We stand where we have an immense view of what is, and what is past. Clouds indeed, and darkness, rest upon the future. Let us, however, before we descend from this noble eminence, reflect that this growth of our national prosperity has happened within the short period of the life of man. It has happened within sixty-eight years. There are those alive whose memory might touch the two extremities. For instance, my Lord Bathurst might remember all the stages of the progress. He was in 1704 of an age at least to be made to comprehend such things. He was then old enough acta parentum jam legere, et quce sit poterit cognoscere virtus. — Suppose, Sir, that the angel of this auspicious youth, foreseeing the many virtues, which made him one of the most amiable, as he is one of the most fortunate, men of his age, had opened to him in vision, that, when, in the fourth generation, the third prince of the House of Brunswick had sat twelve years on the throne of that nation, which (by the happy issue of moderate and healing councils) was to be made Great Britain, he should see his son, Lord Chancellor of England, turn back the cur- rent of hereditary dignity to its fountain, and raise him to a higher rank of peer- age, whilst he enriched the family with a new one — If, amidst these bright and happy scenes of domestic honour and prosperity, that angel should have drawn up the curtain, and unfolded the rising glories of his country, and whilst he was gazing with admiration on the then commercial grandeur of England, the genius should point out to him a little speck, scarce visible in the mass of the national interest, a small seminal principle, rather than a formed body, and should tell him, — ' Young man, there is America — which at this day serves for little more than to amuse you with stories of savage men and uncouth man- ners; yet shall, before you taste of death, show itself equal to the whole of that commerce which now attracts the envy of the world. Whatever England has been growing to by a progressive increase of improvement, brought in by varieties of people, by succession of civilising conquests and civilising settle- ments, in a series of seventeen hundred years, you shall see as much added to her by America in the course of a single life ! ' — if this state of his country had been foretold to him, would it not require all the sanguine credulity of youth, and all the fervid glow of enthusiasm, to make him believe it? Fortu- nate man, he has lived to see it ! Fortunate, indeed, if he lives to see nothing that shall vary the prospect, and cloud the setting of his day ! '' Pari. Hist. vol, xviii. p. 487.] P10ZZI. 11 sented to appear ; he would perhaps in somewhat like these words have commenced the conversation : " ' You seem, my Lord, to he concerned at the judicious apprehension, that while you are sapping the foundations of royalty at home, and propagating- here the dangerous doctrine of resistance, the distance of America may secure its inhabitants from your arts, though active : but I will unfold to you the gay prospects of futurity. This people, now so innocent and harmless, shall draw the sword against their mother country, and bathe its point in the blood of their benefactors : this people, now contented with a little, shall then refuse to spare what they themselves confess they could not miss ; and these men, now so honest and so grateful, shall, in return for peace and for protection, see their vile agents in the house of parliament, there to sow the seeds of sedition, and propagate confusion, per- plexity, and pain. Be not dispirited, then, at the contem- plation, of their present happy state : I promise you that anarchy, poverty, and death shall, by my care, be carried even across the spacious Atlantic, and settle in America itself, the sure consequences of our beloved whiggism.' " This I thought a thing so very particular, that I begged his leave to write it down directly, before any thing could intervene that might make me forget the force of the ex- pressions : a trick, which I have however seen played on common occasions, of sitting steadily down at the other end of the room to write at the moment what should be said in company, either by Dr. Johnson or to him, I never practised myself, nor approved of in another. 1 There is something so ill-bred, and so inclining to treachery in this conduct, that were it commonly adopted, all confidence would soon be exiled from society, and a conversation assembly-room would become tremendous as a court of justice. A set of acquaintance joined in familiar chat may say a thousand things, which, as the phrase is, pass well enough at the time, though they cannot stand the test of critical examination ; and as all talk beyond that which is necessary to the purposes of actual business is a kind of game, there will be ever found ways of playing fairly or 1 [This is evidently an allusion to Boswell.] 12 JOHNSONIANA. unfairly at it, which distinguish the gentleman from the juggler. 14. Anacreon's Dove, Dr. Johnson, as well as many of my acquaintance, knew that I kept a commonplace hook ; and he one day said to me good-humouredly, that he would give me something to write in my repository. " I warrant," said he, " there is a great deal about me in it : you shall have at least one thing worth your pains ; so if you will get the pen and ink, I will repeat to you Anacreon's Dove directly ; but tell at the same time, that as I never was struck with any thing in the Greek language till I read that, so I never read any thing in the same language since that pleased me as much. I hope my translation/ ' continued he, " is not worse than that of Frank Fawkes." Seeing me dis- posed to laugh, " Nay, nay," said he, " Frank Fawkes has done them very finely : — " Lovely courier of the sky, Whence and whither dost thou fly? Scatt'ring, as thy pinions play, Liquid fragrance all the way : Is it business ? is it love ? Tell me, tell me, gentle Dove. " Soft Anacreon's vows I bear. Vows to Myrtale the fair ; Graced with all that charms the heart, Blushing nature, smiling art, Venus, courted by an ode, On the bard her Dove bestow'd. Vested with a master's right Now Anacreon rules my flight : His the letters that you see, Weighty charge consign'd to me : Think not yet my service hard, Joyless task without reward : Smiling at my master's gates, Freedom my return awaits ; But the liberal grant in vain Tempts me to be wild again : Can a prudent Dove decline Blissful bondage such as mine ? Over hills and fields to roam, Fortune's guest without a home ; piozzi. 13 Under leaves to hide one's head, Slightly shelter'd, coarsely fed ; Now my better lot bestows Sweet repast, and soft repose ; Now the generous bowl I sip As it leaves Anacreon's lip ; Void of care, and free from dread, From his fingers snatch his bread, Then with luscious plenty gay, Round his chamber dance and play ; Or from wine as courage springs, O'er his face extend my wings ; And when feast and frolic tire, Drop asleep upon his lyre. This is all, be quick and go, More than all thou canst not know ; Let me now my pinions ply, I have chatter'd like a pie." When I had finished, " But you must remember to add," says Mr. Johnson, " that though these verses were planned, and even begun, when I was sixteen years old, I never could find time to make an end of them before I was sixty-eight." 15. Johnson's Portrait by Himself. He told me that the character of Sober, in " The Idler," was by himself intended as his own portrait ; and that he had his own outset into life in his eye, when he wrote the eastern story of Gelaleddin. 16. Giving aivay Literary Productions, Dr. Johnson was liberal enough in granting literary assistance to others, I think ; and innumerable are the prefaces, sermons, lectures, and dedications which he used to make for people who begged of him. Mr. Murphy related in his and my hearing one day, and he did not deny it, that when Murphy joked him the week before for having been so diligent of late between Dodd's sermon and Kelly's prologue, that Dr. Johnson replied, " Why, Sir, when they come to me with a dead stay-maker and a dying parson, what can a man do ?" He said, however, that " he hated to give away literary performances, or even to sell them too cheaply : the next generation shall 14- JOHNSONIANA. not accuse me," added he, " of beating* down the price of literature : one hates, besides, ever to give that which one has been accustomed to sell : would not you, Sir," turning to Mr. Thrale, " rather give away money than porter ? " 17. Reading. Mr. Johnson had never, by his own account, been a close student, and used to advise young people never to be without a book in their pocket, to be read at bye-times, when they had nothing else to do. " It has been by that means," said he to a boy at our house one day, " that all my knowledge has been gained, except what I have picked up by running about the world with my wits ready to observe, and my tongue ready to talk. A man is seldom in a humour to unlock his bookcase, set his desk in order, and betake himself to serious study ; but a re- tentive memory will do something, and a fellow shall have strange credit given him, if he can but recollect striking passages from different books, keep the authors separate in his head, and bring his stock of knowledge artfully into play. How else," added he, " do the gamesters manage, when they play for more money than they are worth ? " 18. The Dictionary. His Dictionary, however, could not, one would think, have been written by running up and down : but he really did not consider it as a great performance ; and used to say, " that he might have done it easily in two years, had not his health received several shocks during the time." When Mr. Thrale, in consequence of this declaration, teased him, in the year I768, to give a new edition of it, " because," said he, " there are four or five gross faults ;" — " Alas ! Sir," replied Johnson, " there are four or five hundred faults, instead of four or five ; but you do not consider that it would take me up three whole months' labour, and when the time was expired the work would not be done." When the booksellers set him about it, however, some years after, he went cheerfully to piozzi. 15 the business, said he was well paid, and that they deserved to have it done carefully. 19. The French Academy, His reply to the person who complimented him on his Dictionary coming- out first, mentioning the ill success of the French in a similar attempt, is well known ; and, I trust, has been often recorded : " Why, what would you expect, dear Sir," said he, " from fellows that eat frogs?" 1 20. Greek. I have often thought Dr. Johnson more free than prudent, in professing so loudly his little skill in the Greek language 2 : for though he considered it as a proof of a narrow mind to be too careful of literary reputation, yet no man could be more enraged than he, if an enemy, taking advantage of this confession, twitted him with his ignorance ; and I remember when the king of Denmark was in England, one of his noblemen was brought by Mr. Colman to see Dr. Johnson at our country-house ; and having heard, he said, that he was not famous for Greek literature, attacked him on the weak side ; politely adding, that he chose that conversation on purpose to favour himself. Our Doctor, however, displayed so copious, so compendious a knowledge of authors, books, and every branch of learning in that language, that the gentleman appeared astonished. When he was gone home, says Johnson, " Now, for all this triumph, I may thank Thr ale's Xenophon here, as, I think, excepting that one, I have not looked in a Greek book these ten years : but see what haste my dear friends were all in," continued he, " to tell this poor innocent foreigner that I knew nothing of Greek ! Oh, no, he knows nothing of Greek ! " with a loud burst of laughing. 1 For his pleasantry about the French Academy, see Boswell, vol. i. p. 215. — C. 2 [See Boswell, vol. viii. p. 389.] 16 JOHNSONIANA. 21. Pope — Dry den — Gar rick — Cony r eve — and Young, Of Pope as a writer he had the highest opinion, and once when a lady at our house talked of his preface to Shakspeare as superior to Pope's, " I fear not, Madam," said he, " the little fellow has done wonders." His su- perior reverence of Dryden, notwithstanding, still appeared in his talk as in his writings ; and when some one men- tioned the ridicule thrown on him in " The Rehearsal," as having hurt his general character as an author, " on the contrary," says Mr. Johnson, "the greatness of Dryden's reputation is now the only principle of vitality which keeps the Duke of Buckingham's play from putrefaction." * It was not very easy, however, for people not quite in- timate with Dr. Johnson, to get exactly his opinion of a writers's merit, as he would now and then divert himself by confounding those who thought themselves obliged to say to-morrow what he had said yesterday ; and even Gar rick, who ought to have been better acquainted with his tricks, professed himself mortified, that one time when he was extolling Dryden in a rapture that 1 suppose dis- gusted his friend, Mr. Johnson suddenly challenged him to produce twenty lines in a series, that would not dis- grace the poet and his admirer. Garrick produced a pas- sage that he had once heard the Doctor commend, in which he noiv found, if I remember rightly, sixteen faults, and made Garrick look silly at his own table. When I told Mr. Johnson the story, " Why, what a monkey was David now," says he, " to tell of his own disgrace !" In the course of that hour's chat, he told me how he used to tease Garrick by commendations of the tomb scene in Congreve's Mourning Bride, protesting that Shakspeare had, in the same line of excellence, nothing as good : "All which is strictly true, 39 said he; "but that is no reason for supposing Congreve is to stand in competition 1 If this opinion on the republication of " The Rehearsal" be correct, it must, — as sometimes happens — have fallen and risen again. The truth is, that the greater number of readers at present admire the wit of " The Rehearsal, "without ever thinking of its being a satire on Dryden. — Fonnereau. piozzr. 17 with Shakspeare : these fellows know not how to blame, nor how to commend. " I forced him one day, in a similar humour, to prefer Young's description of night to the so much admired ones of Dryden and Shakspeare, as more forcible, and more general. Every reader is not either a lover or a tyrant, but every reader is interested when he hears that " Creation sleeps ; 't is as the general pulse Of life stood still, and nature made a pause ; An awful pause — prophetic of its end." " This," said he, " is true ; but remember that, taking the compositions of Young in general, they are but like bright stepping-stones over a miry road. Young froths, and foams, and bubbles sometimes very vigorously ; but we must not compare the noise made by your tea-kettle here with the roaring of the ocean." 22. Corneille. — Shakspeare* — Steele. Somebody was praising Corneille one day in opposition to Shakspeare : " Corneille is to Shakspeare," replied Mr. Johnson, (< asa clipped hedge is to a forest." When we talked of Steele's Essays, " They are too thin," says our critic, " for an Englishman's taste : mere superficial ob- servations on life and manners, without erudition enough to make them keep, — like the light French wines, which turn sour with standing a while, for want of body, as we call it." 23. Style of Swift A friend was praising the style of Dr. Swift ; Mr. Johnson did not find himself in the humour to agree with him : the critic was driven from one of his performances to the other. At length, " You must allow me," said the gentleman, " that there are strong facts in the account of the ' Four last Years of Queen Anne.' " " Yes, surely, Sir," replies Johnson, " and so there are in the Ordinary of Newgate's account." 18 JOHNSONIANA. 24. " New Manner of IVriting" This was like the story which Mr. Murphy tells, and Johnson always acknowledged : how Dr. Rose of Chis- wick, contending for the preference of Scotch writers over the English, after having set up his authors like nine-pins, while the Doctor kept bowling them down again ; at last, to make sure of victory, he named Ferguson upon " Civil Society," and praised the book for being written in a new manner. " I do not," says Johnson, " perceive the value of this new manner ; it is only like Buckinger, who had no hands, and so wrote with his feet." 25. Robertson* — Canting. When he related to me a short dialogue that passed be- tween himself and a writer of the first eminence in the world, when he was in Scotland, I was shocked to think how he must have disgusted him. Dr. Robertson asked me, said he, why I did not join in their public worship when among them? " for," said he, "I went to your churches often when in England." " So," replied John- son, " I have read that the Siamese sent ambassadors to Louis Quatorze, but 1 never heard that the king of France thought it worth his while to send ambassadors from his court to that of Siam." * He was no gentler with myself, or those for whom I had the greatest regard. When I one day lamented the loss of a first cousin killed in America ; " Prithee, my dear," said he, " have done with canting : how would the world be worse for it, I may ask, if all your relations were at once spitted like larks, and roasted for Presto's sup- per ? " Presto was the dog that lay under the table while we talked. 26. Young Peas. When we went into Wales together, and spent some time at Sir Robert Cotton's at Lleweny, one day at dinner I meant to please Mr. Johnson particularly with a dish oi > [See Boswell, vol. vii. p. 192.] ''■''" ■■''" * : '~&R'$fS&£v S^p^ra^c^^?'^- '■' ' ' M& 7 ¥r&$>** .** '::■•'■:■■;• .■■'• M ISfeSfi^ ;; ;■'='"■■ 0i$%$!§k s -l' v it« Jt- ■• - ..-: . : • ."' '.'•■■'■: '- 1 «. . JMB . '* ' . 1 -^^^B ?^J -• : Mv.;S'S? ;; 'v 1% ::'■:- -i-^-S^S IcLs Tiiny. Udw. ! { 2i . ' piozzi. 2y and was ever on the watch to spy out those stains of original corruption, so easily discovered by a penetrating observer, even in the purest minds. I mentioned an event, which if it had happened would greatly have in- jured Mr. Thrale and his family — and then, dear Sir, said I, how sorry you would have been ! "I hope," replied he, after a long pause, " I should have been very sorry; — but remember Rochefoucault's maxim." 1 I would rather, answered I, remember Prior's verses, and ask, " What need of books these truths to tell, Which folks perceive that cannot spell ? And must we spectacles apply, To see what hurts our naked eye ? " — Will any body's mind bear this eternal microscope that you place upon your own so*? " I never," replied he, " saw one that would, except that of my dear Miss Reynolds — and hers is very near to purity itself." Of slighter evils, and friends less distant than our own household, he spoke less cautiously. An acquaintance lost the almost certain hope of a good estate that had been long expected. Such a one will grieve, said I, at her friend's disappointment. " She will suffer as much, perhaps," said he, " as your horse did when your cow miscarried." I professed myself sincerely grieved when accumulated distresses crushed Sir George Colebrook's family ; and I was so. " Your own prosperity," said he, " may pos- sibly have so far increased the natural tenderness of your heart, that for aught I know you may be a little sorry ; but it is sufficient for a plain man if he does not laugh when he sees a fine new house tumble down all on a sudden, and a snug cottage stand by ready to receive the owner, whose birth entitled him to nothing better, and whose limbs are left him to go to work again with." 1 " In the misfortunes of our best friends we always find something to please us." 30 JOHNSONIANA. 43. Hyperbole, I used to tell him in jest, that his morality was easily contented ; and when I have said something" as if the wickedness of the world gave me concern, he would cry out aloud against canting, and protest that he thought that there was very little gross wickedness in the world, and still less of extraordinary virtue. Nothing indeed more surely disgusted Dr. Johnson than hyperbole : he loved not to be told of sallies of excellence, which he said were seldom valuable, and seldom true. " Heroic vir- tues," said he, " are the bons mots of life : they do not appear often, and when they do appear are too much prized, I think ; like the aloe-tree, which shoots and flowers once in a hundred years." 44. Life made up of little Things. Life is made up of little things ; and that character is the best which does little but repeated acts of beneficence ; as that conversation is the best which consists in elegant and pleasing thoughts, expressed in natural and pleasing terms. " With regard to my own notions of moral virtue," continued he, " I hope I have not lost my sensi- bility of wrong ; but I hope likewise that I have lived long enough in the world to prevent me from expecting to find any action of which both the original motive and all the parts were good." 45. Johnson's Piety and Spirit of Devotion. The piety of Dr. Johnson was exemplary and edifying. He was punctiliously exact to perform every public duty enjoined by the church, and his spirit of devotion had an energy that affected all who ever saw him pray in private. The coldest and most languid hearers of the word must have felt themselves animated by his manner of reading the Holy Scriptures ; and to pray by his sick bed re- quired strength of body as well as of mind, so vehement were his manners. I have many times made it my request to Heaven that I might be spared the sight of his death ; and I was spared it ! piozzi. 31 46. Voluntary Penance, Mr. Johnson, though in general a gross feeder, kept fast in Lent, particularly the holy week, with a rigour very dangerous to his general health ; but though he had left off wine, (for religious motives, as I always be- lieved, though he did not own it,) yet he did not hold the commutation of offences by voluntary penance, or encourage others to practise severity upon themselves. He even once said, " that he thought it an error to endeavour at pleasing God by taking the rod of reproof out of his hands." 47. Convents, — The Benedictines, When we talked of convents, and the hardships suf- fered in them — " Remember always," said he, " that a convent is an idle place, and where there is nothing to be done something must be endured : mustard has a bad taste per se, you may observe, but very insipid food cannot be eaten without it." His respect, however, for places of religious retirement was carried to the greatest degree of veneration. The Benedictine convent at Paris 1 paid him all possible honours in return, and the Prior 2 and he parted with tears of tenderness. Two of that college 3 being sent to England on a mission some 1 We learn from the Abbe Mann's Account of the Benedictine Monks in Paris, that this priory was first founded at St. Malo, in 1611, by Giffard, Arch- bishop of Rheims. The French king not permitting this house to continue at St. Malo, on account of its proximity to England, Archbishop Giffard pro- cured another at Paris, which, in 1642, was changed for one in the Rue St. Jacques, where the monks remained till 1793, when they were involved in the common destruction of the French Revolution. During their existence in Paris, these monks enjoyed all the privileges of the university, with regard to studies, degrees, and benefices annexed to the degrees ; and it was by means of these last, that the house enjoyed considerable revenues. — Markland. 2 This individual was the Rev. Mr. Cowley. He was at this time about 40 years of age, and he is described to me by a still surviving contemporary (the Rev. A. Ryding, now residing at Ampleforth, near York), as a man of good sense, taste, and judgment. — Markland. 3 The Rev. James Compton (see Boswell, vol. viii. p. 201.) and the Rev. Joseph Wilks. Mr. Wilks was born at Coughton Court, Warwickshire, and educated at St. Edmund's, a Benedictine monastery in Paris. He was sometime chaplain to Mr. Basil Fitzherbert, of Svvinnerton in Staffordshire, and afterwards the chief priest of Bath. In 1788 he was added to the English Ca- tholic committee, appointed to " watch over and promote their public interests," then consisting of thirteen persons ; but having incurred the displeasure of his 32 JOHNSONIANA. years after, spent much of their time with him at Bolt Court I know, and he was ever earnest to retain their friendship ; but, though beloved by all his Roman Ca- tholic acquaintance, particularly Dr. Nugent, for whose esteem he had a singular value, yet was Mr. Johnson a most unshaken church-of-England man. 48. Infidels, — Hume. — Raynal. The settled aversion Dr. Johnson felt towards an infidel he expressed to all ranks, and at all times, without the smallest reserve ; for though on common occasions he paid great deference to birth or title, yet his regard for truth and virtue never gave way to meaner considerations. We talked of a dead wit one evening, and somebody praised him : — " Let us never praise talents so ill em- ployed, Sir ; we foul our mouths by commending such infidels," said he. Allow him the lumieres at least, en- treated one of the company. — " I do allow him, Sir," replied Johnson, "just enough to light him to Hell/ Of a Jamaica gentleman, then lately dead — " He will not, whither he is now gone," said Johnson, " find much difference, I believe, either in the climate or the company." Bishop, Dr. Walmsley (most probably with reference to the proceedings of this committee — see Butler s Historical Memoirs of the Catholics, vol. iv. ), he quitted England, and after visiting various parts of the Continent, died at Douay in 1829, about the age of 82. Whilst in England, he was well received at Oxford ; and it is said that he gave some assistance to Dr. Kennicot, when preparing his He- brew Bible, in which language Wilks was a proficient. Mr. Ryding, who knew him intimately, describes Wilks as a humble and devout man, possessing very superior talents. At Johnson's suggestion, he wrote the Life of Socrates, which the former promised to revise, particularly with a view to expunge any Gallicisms which might have crept into the work. It is believed that it was finished, but never published. Johnson selected Wilks as his companion, when visiting the public libraries, &c. in Paris. At the King's library Johnson's singular appear- ance, and his full-mouthed pronunciation of Latin, exposed him to some ridicule from a French Abbe. According to Mr. Ryding, Johnson declared to the Prior, that, so much was he pleased with his reception by the Benedictines, that, could he procure an increase to his pension, he would return to France, with the intention of ending his days as an inmate of the monastery. To every one conversant with the opinions which Johnson openly expressed as to certain im- portant tenets of Popery, as well as with his arguments against monastic and solitary life, not only will many weighty objections occur, as to the probability of such intention having been seriously entertained, but it must also be evident, that to a man retiring from the world an increase of pension would be useless, and that a life of literary ease would have proved a slender compensation to John- son for the loss of Bolt Court and the Literary Club. — Markland. piozzi. 33 The Abbe Raynal probably remembers that, being at the house of a common friend in London, the master of it approached Johnson with that gentleman so much cele- brated in his hand, and this speech in his mouth : " Will you permit me, Sir, to present to you the Abbe Raynal ?" " No, Sir," replied the Doctor, very loud ; and sud- denly turned away from them both. 49. Dancing Master. — Palmyra. He would sometimes good-naturedly enter into a long chat for the instruction or entertainment of people he despised. I perfectly recollect his condescending to delight my daughter's dancing-master with a long argu- ment about his art ; which the man protested, at the close of the discourse, the Doctor knew more of than himself; who remained astonished, enlightened, and amused by the talk of a person little likely to make a good disquisition upon dancing. I have sometimes indeed been rather pleased than vexed when Mr. Johnson has given a rough answer to a man who perhaps deserved one only half as rough, be- cause I knew he would repent of his hasty reproof, and make us all amends by some conversation at once in- structive and entertaining, as in the following cases : A young fellow asked him abruptly one day, " Pray, Sir, what and where is Palmyra ? I heard somebody talk last night of the ruins of Palmyra." "'Tis a hill in Ireland," replies Johnson, " with palms growing on the top, and a bog at the bottom, and so they call it Palm-mira." Seeing, however, that the lad thought him serious, and thanked him for the information, he undeceived him very gently indeed ; told him the history, geography, and chronology of Tadmor in the wilderness, with every incident that literature could furnish, I think, or eloquence express, from the building of Solomon's palace to the voyage of Dawkins and Wood. 50. Marriage. When he was musing over the fire in our drawing- room at Streatham, a young gentleman called to him D 34) JOHNSONIANA. suddenly, and I suppose he thought disrespectfully, in these words : " Mr. Johnson, would you advise me to marry?" "I would advise no man to marry, Sir," returns for answer in a very angry tone Dr. Johnson, " who is not likely to propagate understanding ;" and so left the room. Our companion looked confounded, and I believe had scarce recovered the consciousness of his own existence, when Johnson came back, and drawing his chair among us, with altered looks and a softened voice, joined in the general chat, insensibly led the conversation to the subject of marriage, where he laid himself out in a dissertation so useful, so elegant, so founded on the true knowledge of human life, and so adorned with beauty of sentiment, that no one ever recollected the offence, except to rejoice in its consequences. He repented just as cer- tainly, however, if he had been led to praise any person or thing by accident more than he thought it deserved, and was on such occasions comically earnest to destroy the praise or pleasure he had unintentionally given. 5 1 . Pain tings, — Reyn olds. Sir Joshua Reynolds mentioned some picture as ex- cellent. " It has often grieved me, Sir," said Mr. Johnson, " to see so much mind as the science of paint- ing requires, laid out upon such perishable materials : why do not you oftener make use of copper ? I could wish your superiority in the art you profess to be pre- served in stuff more durable than canvass." Sir Joshua urged the difficulty of procuring a plate large enough for historical subjects, and was going to raise further ob- jections : — "What foppish obstacles are these!" ex- claims, on a sudden, Dr. Johnson : " here is Thrale, who has a thousand ton of copper ; you may paint it all round if you will, I suppose ; it will serve him to brew in after- wards : will it not, Sir ?" to my husband, who sat by. Indeed, Dr. Johnson's utter scorn of painting was such, that I have heard him say, that he should sit very quietly in a room hung round with the works of the greatest masters, and never feel the slightest disposition to turn them if their backs were outermost, unless it piozzi. 35 might be for the sake of telling Sir Joshua that he had turned them. Such speeches may appear offensive to many ; but those who know he was too blind to discern the perfections of an art which applies itself immediately to our eyesight, must acknowledge he was not in the wrong. 52. Prospects. He delighted no more in music than painting ; he was almost as deaf as he was blind : travelling with Dr. Johnson was for these reasons tiresome enough. Mr. Thrale loved prospects, and was mortified that his friend could not enjoy the sight of those different dispositions of wood and water, hill and valley, that travelling through England and France affords a man. But when he wished to point them out to his companion: — "Never heed such nonsense,' ' would be the reply : " a blade of grass is always a blade of grass, whether in one country or another : let us, if we do talk, talk about something ; men and women are my subjects of inquiry ; let us see how these differ from those we have left behind." i 53. Porridge Island. I was saying to a friend one day, that I did not like goose ; one smells it so while it is roasting, said I : — " But you, Madam," replies the Doctor, " have been at all times a fortunate woman, having always had your hunger so forestalled by indulgence, that you never ex- perienced the delight of smelling your dinner beforehand." Which pleasure, answered I pertly, is to be enjoyed in perfection by such as have the happiness to pass through Porridge Island l of a morning. " Come, come," says he gravely, " let's have no sneering at what is serious to so many : hundreds of your fellow-creatures, dear lady, turn another way, that they may not be tempted by the luxuries of Porridge Island to wish for gratifications they 1 Porridge Island is a mean street in London filled with cook-shops for the convenience of the poorer inhabitants ; the real name of it I know not, but suspect that which it is generally known by to have been originally a term of derision. — Piozzi. It is not a street, but a paved alley, near the church of St. Martin's in the Fields. — Malone. D 2 36 JOHNSONIANA. are not able to obtain : you are certainly not better than all of them ; give God thanks that you are happier." 54. Foppish Lamentations, I received on another occasion as just a rebuke from Mr. Johnson, for an offence of the same nature, and hope I took care never to provoke a third ; for, after a very long summer particularly hot and dry, I was wishing naturally, but thoughtlessly, for some rain to lay the dust, as we drove along the Surrey roads. " I cannot bear," replied he, with much asperity and an altered look, " when I know how many poor families will perish next winter for want of that bread which the present drought will deny them, to hear ladies sighing for rain, only that their complexions may not suffer from the heat, or their clothes be incommoded by the dust ; — for shame ! leave off such foppish lamentations, and study to relieve those whose distresses are real." 55, Johnson's Charity, With advising others to be charitable, however, Dr. Johnson did not content himself. He gave away all he had, and all he ever had gotten, except the two thousand pounds he left behind ; and the very small portion of his income which he spent on himself, with all our calcu- lation, we never could make more than seventy, or, at most, fourscore pounds a year, and he pretended to allow himself a hundred. He had numberless dependents out of doors as well as in, " who," as he expressed it, " did not like to see him latterly unless he brought 'em money." For those people he used frequently to raise contributions on his richer friends ; " and this," says he, " is one of the thousand reasons which ought to restrain a man from drony solitude and useless retirement." 56, Solitude, " Solitude," added he one day, " is dangerous to reason, without being favourable to virtue : pleasures of some sort are necessary to the intellectual as to the cor- poreal health - y and those who resist gaiety will be likely, PIOZZI. 3*7 for the most part, to fall a sacrifice to appetite ; for the solicitations of sense are always at hand, and a dram to a vacant and solitary person is a speedy and seducing relief. " Remember," continued he, " that the solitary mortal is certainly luxurious, probably superstitious, and possibly mad : the mind stagnates for want of employ- ment, grows morbid, and is extinguished like a candle in foul air." It was on this principle that Johnson encouraged parents to carry their daughters early and much into company : " for what harm can be done before so many witnesses ? Solitude is the surest nurse of all prurient passions ; and a girl in the hurry of preparation, or tumult of gaiety, has neither inclination nor leisure to let tender expressions soften or sink into her heart. The ball, the show, are not the dangerous places : no, 't is the private friend, the kind consoler, the companion of the easy vacant hour, whose compliance with her opinions can flatter her vanity, and whose conversation can just soothe, without ever stretching her mind, that is the lover to be feared : he who buzzes in her ear at court, or at the opera, must be contented to buzz in vain." These notions Dr. Johnson carried so very far, that I have heard him say, " If you would shut up any man with any woman, so as to make them derive their whole pleasure from each other, they would inevitably fall in love, as it is called, with each other ; but at six months' end, if you would throw them both into public life where they might change partners at pleasure, each would soon forget that fondness which mutual dependence, and the paucity of general amusement alone, had caused, and each would separately feel delighted by their release." 57. Useless Singularity. — Cards. — Dress. — Dancing. Mr. Johnson was indeed unjustly supposed to be a lover of singularity. Few people had a more settled reverence for the world than he, or was less captivated by new modes of behaviour introduced, or innovations on the long-received customs of common life. He hated the D 3 38 JOHNSONIANA. way of leaving a company without taking notice to the lady of the house that he was going ; and did not much like any of the contrivances by which ease has been lately introduced into society instead of ceremony, which had more of his approbation. Cards, dress, and dancing all found their advocates in Dr. Johnson, who inculcated, upon principle, the cultivation of those arts, which many a moralist thinks himself bound to reject, and many a Christian holds unfit to be practised. " No person/' said he one day, " goes under-dressed till he thinks himself of consequence enough to forbear carrying the badge of his rank upon his back." And in answer to the arguments urged by Puritans, Quakers, &c, against showy decorations of the human figure, I once heard him exclaim, " Oh, let us not be found, when our Master calls us, ripping the lace off our waistcoats, but the spirit of contention from our souls and tongues ! Let us all conform in outward customs, which are of no consequence, to the manners of those whom we live among, and despise such paltry distinctions. Alas, Sir," continued he, " a man who cannot get to heaven in a green coat, will not find his way thither the sooner in a grey one." On an occasion of less consequence, when he turned his back on Lord Bolingbroke in the rooms at Bright- helmstone, he made this excuse : — " I am not obliged, Sir," said he to Mr. Thrale, who stood fretting, " to find reasons for respecting the rank of him who will not condescend to declare it by his dress, or some other visible mark : what are stars and other signs of superiority made for ?" 5 8 . General Satire. — Physic. — Laiv. Though no man, perhaps, made such rough replies as Dr. Johnson, yet nobody had a more just aversion to general satire. He always hated and censured Swift for his unprovoked bitterness against the professors of medi- cine ; and used to challenge his friends, when they lamented the exorbitancy of physicians' fees, to produce piozzi. 39 him one instance of an estate raised by physic in England. When an acquaintance, too, was one day exclaiming against the tediousness of the law and its partiality — " Let us hear, Sir," said Johnson, " no general abuse ; the law is the last result of human wisdom acting upon human experience for the benefit of the public/ ' 59. Unnecessary Scruples. As the mind of Dr. Johnson was greatly expanded, so his first care was for general, not particular or petty morality ; and those teachers had more of his blame than praise, I think, who seek to oppress life with unnecessary scruples : " Scruples would," as he observed, " certainly make men miserable, and seldom make them good. Let us ever," he said, " studiously fly from those instructors against whom our Saviour denounces heavy judgments, for having bound up burdens grievous to be borne, and laid them on the shoulders of mortal men." No one had, however, higher notions of the hard task of true Christianity than Johnson, whose daily terror lest he had not done enough originated in piety, but ended in little less than disease. Reasonable with regard to others, he had formed vain hopes of performing impossibilities himself; and finding his good works ever below his desires and intent, filled his imagination with fears that he should never obtain forgiveness for omissions of duty and criminal waste of time. 60. Jesting. Mr. Johnson liked a frolic or a jest well enough ; though he had strange serious rules about it too ; and very angry was he if any body offered to be merry when he was dis- posed to be grave. " You have an ill-founded notion," said he, " that it is clever to turn matters off with a joke, as the phrase is ; whereas, nothing produces enmity so certain, as one person's showing a disposition to be merry, when another is inclined to be either serious or dis- pleased." D 4 40 JOHNSON1ANA. 61 • Distressed Authors, No man told a story with so good a grace, or knew so well what would make an effect upon his auditors. When he raised contributions for some distressed author, or wit in want, he often made us all more than amends by di- verting descriptions of the lives they were then passing in corners, unseen by any body but himself and that odd old surgeon, Robert Levett, whom he kept in his house to tend the out-pensioners, and of whom he said most truly and sublimely, that " In misery's darkest caverns known, His ready help was ever nigh, Where hopeless anguish pour'd his groan, And lonely want retired to die." I have forgotten the year, but it could scarcely, I think, be later than I760 or 1766, that he was called abruptly from our house after dinner, and returning in about three hours, said, he had been with an enraged author, whose landlady pressed him for payment within doors, while the bailiffs beset him without ; that he was drinking himself drunk with Madeira to drown care, and fretting over a novel which when finished was to be his whole fortune ; but he could not get it done for distraction, nor could he step out of doors to offer it to sale. Mr. Johnson there- fore set away the bottle, and went to the bookseller, recommending the performance, and desiring some imme- diate relief; which when he brought back to the writer, he called the woman of the house directly to partake of punch, and to pass their time in merriment. 1 There was a Mr. Boyse, too, who wrote some very ele- gant verses printed in the Magazines of five-and-twenty years ago, of whose ingenuity and distress I have heard Dr. Johnson tell some curious anecdotes ; particularly, that when he was almost perishing with hunger, and some money was produced to purchase him a dinner, he got a bit of roast beef, but could not eat it without catchup, and laid out the last half-guinea he possessed in truffles and 1 [See Boswell, vol. ii. p. 193.] piozzi. 41 mushrooms, eating them in bed, too, for want of clothes, or even a shirt to sit up in. Another man, for whom he often begged, made as wild use of his friend's beneficence as these, spending in punch the solitary guinea which had been brought him one morn- ing ; when, resolving to add another claimant to a share of the bowl, besides a woman who always lived with him, and a footman who used to carry out petitions for charity, he borrowed a chairman's watch, and pawning it for half a crown, paid a clergyman to marry him to a fellow- lodger in the wretched house they all inhabited, and got so drunk over the guinea bowl of punch the evening of his wedding day, that having many years lost the use of one leg, he now contrived to fall from the top of the stairs to the bottom, and break his arm ; in which con- dition his companions left him to call Mr. Johnson, who relating the series of his tragi-comical distresses, obtained from the Literary Club a seasonable relief. 62. The Literary Club. Of that respectable society I have heard him speak in the highest terms, and with a magnificent panegyric on each member, when it consisted only of a dozen or four- teen friends ; but as soon as the necessity of enlarging it brought in new faces, and took off from his confidence in the company, he grew less fond of the meeting, and loudly proclaimed his carelessness who might be admitted, when it was become a mere dinner club. 63. Johnson's Incredulity. Mr. Johnson's incredulity amounted almost to disease, and I have seen it mortify his companions exceedingly. Two gentlemen, I perfectly well remember, dining with us at Streatham in the summer of 1782, when Elliot's brave defence of Gibraltar was a subject of common discourse, one of these men naturally enough began some talk about red-hot balls thrown with surprising dexterity and effect : which Dr. Johnson having listened some time to — " I would advise you, Sir," said he with a cold sneer, " never to relate this story again : you really can scarce imagine 42 JOHNSONIANA. how very poor a figure you make in the telling of it." Our guest being bred a Quaker, and I believe a man of an extremely gentle disposition, needed no more reproofs for the same folly ; so if he ever did speak again, it was in a low voice to the friend who came with him. The check was given before dinner, and after coffee I left the room. When in the evening, however, our companions were returned to London, and Mr. Johnson and myself were left alone, with only our usual family about us — " I did not quarrel with those Quaker fellows," said he, very seriously. " You did perfectly right," replied I \ " for they gave you no cause of offence." " No offence !" re- turned he with an altered voice ; " and is it nothing then to sit whispering together when / am present, without ever directing their discourse towards me, or offering me a share in the conversation ? " That was because you frighted him who spoke first about those hot balls. " Why, Madam, if a creature is neither capable of giving dignity to falsehood, nor willing to remain contented with the truth, he deserves no better treatment." 1 Mr. Johnson's fixed incredulity 2 of every thing he heard, and his little care to conceal that incredulity, was teasing enough to be sure : and I saw Mr. Sharp was pained ex- ceedingly, when relating the history of a hurricane that happened about that time in the West Indies, where, for aught I know, he had himself lost some friends too, he observed Dr. Johnson believed not a syllable of the ac- 1 [Mr. Malone, in his MS. notes, is very indignant that Mrs. Piozzi has omit- ted to state what the story was which produced this observation, and because she has not done so questions the veracity of the whole anecdote ; but this is very unjust. Mrs. Piozzi's object was to exhibit Johnson's manners, and not to record the minute details of the Quaker's story. — C] 2 [Mr. Malone, in his MS. notes, observes on this passage, "Here is another gross misrepresentation. He had 7io fixed incredulity concerning every thing he heard ; but he had observed the great laxity with which almost every story is told, and therefore always examined it accurately, and frequently found some gross exag- geration. The writer herself had not the smallest regard for truth, as Johnson told Mr. Boswell {see his Life of Johnson), and hence this scrutinising habit of her guest was to her a very sore subject.'" On this I must take leave to say that Mr. Malone's observation defeats itself ; because if Dr. Johnson's incredulity was a sore sub- ject with Mrs. Piozzi, she cannot be blamed for recording it. Mr. Malone might have questioned her judgment, in supposing that Johnson was equally incredu- lous as to other persons, but not her sincerity, in describing him as she found him ; and if he found almost every story told with great laxity, is it surprising that he should have an habitual incredulity ? — C] piozzi. 43 count : — " For 't is so easy," says he, " for a man to fill his mouth with a wonder, and run about telling the lie before it can be detected, that I have no heart to believe hurricanes easily raised by the first inventor, and blown forwards by thousands more." I asked him once if he believed the story of the destruction of Lisbon by an earth- quake when it first happened : — " Oh ! not for six months," said he, " at least : I did think that story too dreadful to be credited, and can hardly yet persuade my- self that it was true to the full extent we all of us have heard." 64. Contradiction. — Burney. ■ — Pepys. — Skaiting, Among the numberless people, however, whom I heard him flatly contradict, I never yet saw any one who did not take it patiently excepting Dr. Burney, from whose habitual softness of manners I little expected such an ex- ertion of spirit : the event was as little to be expected. Mr. Johnson asked his pardon generously and genteelly, and when he left the room rose up to shake hands with him, that they might part in peace. On another occasion, when he had violently provoked Mr. Pepys 1 , in a different but perhaps not a less offensive manner, till something much too like a quarrel was grown up between them, the moment he was gone, " Now," says Dr. Johnson, " is Pepys gone home hating me, who love him better than I did before : he spoke in defence of his dead friend ; but though I hope / spoke better who spoke against him, yet all my eloquence will gain me no- thing but an honest man for my enemy ! " He did not, however, cordially love Mr. Pepys, though he respected his abilities. " I knew the dog was a scholar," said he, when they had been disputing about the classics for three hours together one morning at Streatham ; " but that he had so much taste and so much knowledge I did not be- lieve. I might have taken Barnard's word, though, for Barnard would not lie." We had got a little French print among us at Bright- 1 [See Boswell, vol. viii. p. 57, and post, No. 613.] 44 JOHNSONIANA. helmstone, in November, 1782, of some people skaiting, with these lines written under : — " Sur un mince crystal l'hiver conduit leurs pas, Le precipice est sous la glace ; Telle est de nos plaisirs la legere surface, Glissez, mortels ; n'appuyez pas." And I begged translations from every body. Dr. Johnson grave me this : — & " O'er ice the rapid skaiter flies, With sport above and death below ; Where mischief lurks in gay disguise, Thus lightly touch and quickly go." He was, however, most exceedingly enraged when he knew that in the course of the season I had asked half a dozen acquaintance to do the same thing, and said, it was a piece of treachery, and done to make every body else look little when compared to my favourite friends the Pepyses, whose translations were unquestionably the best. I will insert them, because he did say so. This is the distich given me by Sir Lucas, to whom I owe more solid obligations, no less than the power of thanking him for the life he saved, and whose least valuable praise is the cor- rectness of his taste : — " O'er the ice as o'er pleasure you lightly should glide ; Both have gulphs which their flattering surfaces hide." This other more serious one was written by his brother : — . Clarissa. — Lear. — lago . — Falstaff. And when he talked of authors, his praise went spon- taneously to such passages as are sure, in his own phrase, to leave something behind them useful on common occa- sions, or observant of common manners. For example, it was not the two last, but the two first, volumes of Cla- rissa that he prized ; " for give me a sick bed, and a dying lady," said he, " and I'll be pathetic myself: but Rich- ardson had picked the kernel of life," he said, " while 64 JOHNSONIANA. Fielding was contented with the husk." It was not King Lear cursing his daughters or deprecating the storm, that I remember his commendations of; but Iago's ingenious malice and subtle revenge ; or Prince Hal's gay com- pliance with the vices of Fal staff, whom he all along despised. Those plays had, indeed, no rivals in Johnson's favour : " No man but Shakspeare," he said, " could have drawn Sir John." 95. Addison's Prose. His manner of criticising and commending Addison's prose, was the same in conversation as we read it in the printed strictures, and many of the expressions used have been heard to fall from him on common occasions. It was, notwithstanding, observable enough (or I fancied so), that he did never like, though he always thought fit to praise it ; and his praises resembled those of a man who extols the superior elegance of high painted porcelain, while he himself always chooses to eat off plate. I told him so one day, and he neither denied it nor appeared displeased. 96. The Pathetic in Poetry. Of the pathetic in poetry he never liked to speak ; and the only passage I ever heard him applaud as particularly tender in any common book, was Jane Shore's exclama- tion in the last act, — " Forgive me ! but forgive me ! " It was not, however, from the want of a susceptible heart that he hated to cite tender expressions ; for he was more strongly and more violently affected by the force of words representing ideas capable of affecting him at all, than any other man in the world, I believe ; and when he would try to repeat the celebrated Prosa Ecclesiastica pro Mortuis, as it is called, beginning Dies irce, Dies ilia, he could never pass the stanza ending thus, Tantus labor non sit cassus, without bursting into a flood of tears ; which sensibility I used to quote against him when he would inveigh against devotional poetry, and protest that PIOZZI. 65 all religious verses were cold and feeble, and unworthy the subject ; which ought to be treated with higher reverence, he said, than either poets or painters could presume to excite or bestow. 97* Promptitude of Thought. Promptitude of thought, and quickness of expression, were among the peculiar felicities of Johnson. His notions rose up like the dragon's teeth sowed by Cadmus all ready clothed, and in bright armour too, fit for immediate battle. He was therefore (as somebody is said to have expressed it) a tremendous converser, and few people ventured to try their skill against an antagonist with whom contention was so hopeless. One gentleman, however, who dined at a nobleman's house in his company and that of Mr. Thrale, to whom I was obliged for the anecdote, was willing to enter the lists in defence of King William's character ; and having opposed and contradicted Johnson two or three times petulantly enough, the master of the house began to feel uneasy, and expect disagreeable consequences : 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 dinner to-day, — this is all to do himself honour" " No, upon my word," replied the other, " I see no honour in it, whatever you may do." " Well, Sir!" returned Mr. Johnson sternly, " if you do not see the honour, I am sure I feel the disgrace" A young fellow, less confident of his own abilities, lamenting one day that he had lost all his Greek, — "I believe it happened at the same time, Sir," said Johnson, " that I lost all my large estate in Yorkshire." The Lincolnshire lady ] who showed him a grotto she had been making, came off no better, as I remember : " Would it not be a pretty cool habitation in summer, Mr. Johnson?" said she. " 1 think it would, Madam," replied he, — " for a toad." 1 [Mrs. Langton, mother of his friend. — Malone MS. notes. This was not meant as rudeness to the lady ; but Johnson hated grottos, and thought, as he has said in his Life of Pope, that they were " not often the wish or pleasure of an Englishman, who has more frequent need to solicit than to exclude the sun."l F 6(5 JOHNSON I AN A 98. Compliments. When Mr. Johnson had a mind to compliment any one, he did it with more dignity to himself, and better effect upon the company, than any man. When Sir Joshua Reynolds left the room one day, he said, " There goes a I man not to be spoiled by prosperity." And when Mrs. Montagu showed him some China plates which had once belonged to Queen Elizabeth, he told her, " that they had no reason to be ashamed of their present possessor, who was so little inferior to the first." He was not at all offended when, comparing all our acquaintance to some animal or other, we pitched upon the elephant for his resemblance, adding that the probos- cis of that creature was like his mind most exactly, strong to buffet even the tiger, and pliable to pick up even the pin. The truth is, Mr. Johnson was often good- humouredly willing to join in childish amusements, and hated to be left out of any innocent merriment that was going forward. Mr. Murphy always said, he was incom- parable at buffoonery ; and I verily think if he had had good eyes, and a form less inflexible, he would have made an admirable mimic. 99. Johnson on Horseback. — Hunting. He certainly rode on Mr. Thrale's old hunter with a good firmness, and though he would follow the hounds fifty miles an end sometimes, would never own himself either tired or amused. " I have now learned," said he, " by hunting, to perceive that it is no diversion at all, nor ever takes a man out of himself for a moment : the dogs have less sagacity than I could have prevailed on myself to suppose ; and the gentlemen often call to me not to ride over them. It is very strange, and very melancholy, that the paucity of human pleasures should persuade us ever to call hunting one of them." He was however proud to be amongst the sportsmen ; and I think no praise ever went so close to his heart, as when Mr. Hamilton called out one day upon Brighthelmstone Downs, "Why, John- P10ZZI. 67 son rides as well, for aught I see, as the most illiterate fellow in England." ' 100. Conversation. Mr. Johnson, as he was a very talking man himself, had an idea that nothing promoted happiness so much as conversation. A friend's erudition was commended one day as equally deep and strong : — " He will not talk, Sir," was the reply, " so his learning does no good, and his wit, if he has it, gives us no pleasure : out of all his boasted stores I never heard him force but one word, and that word was Richard" With a contempt not inferior he received the praises of a pretty lady's face and behaviour : " She says nothing, Sir," answers Johnson ; " a talking blackamoor were better than a white creature who adds nothing to life, and by sitting down before one thus desperately silent, takes away the confidence one should have in the com- pany of her chair if she were once out of it." 101. Love* — Francis Barber. As we had been saying one day, that no subject failed of receiving dignity from the manner in which Mr. John- son treated it, a lady at my house said she would make him talk about love, and took her measures accordingly, deriding the novels of the day because they treated about love. "It is not," replied our philosopher, " because they treat, as you call it, about love, but because they treat of nothing, that they are despicable : we must not ridicule a passion which he who never felt never was happy, and he who laughs at never deserves to feel — a passion which has caused the change of empires, and the loss of worlds — a passion which has inspired heroism and subdued avarice." He thought he had already said too much. " A passion, in short," added he with an altered 1 [Mr. Boswell says, that Johnson once hunted ; this seems more probable than Mrs. Piozzi's and Hawkins's statements, from which it would be inferred, that he hunted habitually. It seems hard to figure to one's self Dr. Johnson fairly joining in this violent and, to him, one would suppose, extravagant and dangerous amusement. — C] F 2 68 JOHNSONIANA. tone, "that consumes me away for my pretty Fanny 1 here, and she is very cruel." He told us, however, in the course of the same chat, how his negro Francis had been eminent for his success among the girls. Seeing us all laugh, " I must have you know, ladies," said he, " that Frank has carried the empire of Cupid further than most men. When I was in Lincolnshire so many years ago, he attended me thither ; and when we returned home together, I found that a female haymaker had followed him to London for love." Francis was indeed no small favourite with his master ; who retained, however, a prodigious influence over his most violent passions. On the birthday of our eldest daughter, and that of our friend Dr. Johnson, the 17th and 18th of September, we every year made up a little dance and supper, to divert our servants and their friends, putting the summer-house into their hands for the two evenings, to fill with acquaint- ance and merriment. Francis and his white wife were in- vited of course. She was eminently pretty, and he was jealous, as my maids told me. On the first of these days' amusements (I know not what year) Frank took offence at some attentions paid his Desdemona, and walked away next morning to London in wrath. His master and I driving the same road an hour after, overtook him. " What is the matter, child," says Dr. Johnson, " that you leave Streatham to-day ? Art sick ?" " He is jea- lous," whispered I. " Are you jealous of your wife, you stupid blockhead ? " cries out his master in another tone. The fellow hesitated ; and, " To be sure, Sir, I don't quite approve, Sir," was the stammering reply. " Why, what do they do to her, man ? do the footmen kiss her ? " " No, Sir, no ! — Kiss my wife, Sir ! — / hope not, Sir" " Why, what do they do to her, my lad ? " " Why nothing, Sir, I 'm sure, Sir." " Why, then, go back directly and dance, you dog, do ; and let 's hear no more of such empty lamentations." 1 believe, however, that Francis was scarcely as much the object of Mr. Johnson's personal kindness, as the representative of Dr. [ l Miss Burney, the author of " Evelina."] c-J bv£.Fmden "'•... I piozzr. 69 Bathurst, for whose sake he would have loved any body, or any thing. When he spoke of negroes, he always appeared to think them of a race naturally inferior, and made few exceptions in favour of his own ; yet whenever disputes arose in his household among the many odd in- habitants of which it consisted, he always sided with Francis against the others, whom he suspected (not un- justly, I believe) of greater malignity. 102. Poverty of Sentiment. It was never against people of coarse life that his con- tempt was expressed, while poverty of sentiment in men who considered themselves to be company for the parlour, as he called it, was what he would not bear. A very ig- norant young fellow who had plagued us all for nine or ten months, died at last consumptive : "I think," said Mr. Johnson, when he heard the news, " I am afraid, I should have been more concerned for the death of the dog ; but n (hesitating a while) " I am not wrong now in all this, for the dog acted up to his character on every occasion that we know ; but that dunce of a fel- low helped forward the general disgrace of humanity." « Why, dear Sir," said I, " how odd you are ! you have often said the lad was not capable of receiving further in- struction." " He was," replied the Doctor, " like a corked bottle, with a drop of dirty water in it, to be sure ; one might pump upon it for ever without the smallest effect ; but when every method to open and clean it had been tried, you would not have me grieve that the bottle was broke at last ? " This was the same youth who told us he had been reading Lucius Florus ; Florus Delphini was the phrase ; and " my mother," said he, " thought it had something to do with Delphos ; but of that I know nothing." " Who founded Rome, then ? " inquired Mr. Thrale. The lad replied, " Romulus." " And who succeeded Romulus ?" said I. Along pause, and apparently dis- tressful hesitation, followed the difficult question. " Why will you ask him in terms that he does not comprehend ?" said Mr. Johnson enraged. " You might as well bid f 3 JO JOHNSONIAN A, him tell you who phlebotomised Romulus. This fellow's dulness is elastic," continued he, " and all we do is but like kicking at a woolsack." 103. Public Schools, — Useful Knowledge, I remember his saying, " A boy should never be sent to Eton or Westminster school before he is twelve years old at least ; for if in his years of babyhood he ' scapes that general and transcendent knowledge without which life is perpetually put to a stand, he will never get it at a public school, where if he does not learn Latin and Greek, he learns nothing." Mr. Johnson often said, " that there was too much stress laid upon literature as indispensably necessary : there is surely no need that every body should be a scholar, no call that every one should square the circle. Our manner of teaching," said he, " cramps and warps many a mind, which if left more at liberty would have been respectable in some way, though perhaps not in that. We lop our trees, and prune them, and pinch them about," he would say, "and nail them tight up to the wall, while a good standard is at last the only thing for bearing healthy fruit, though it commonly begins later. Let the people learn necessary knowledge ; let them learn to count their fingers, and to count their money, before they are caring for the classics ; for," says Mr. Johnson, " though I do not quite agree with the proverb, that Nullum numen abest si sit prudentia, yet we may very well say, that Nullum numen adest — ni sit pru- dential 104. Ignorance, We had been visiting at a lady's house, whom as we returned some of the company ridiculed for her ignorance : •« She is not ignorant," said he, "I believe, of any thing she has been taught, or of any thing she is desirous to know ; and I suppose if one wanted a little run tea, she might be a proper person enough to apply to." PI0ZZ1. 71 105. Johnson 9 s Pride and Severity. When I relate these various instances of contemptuous behaviour shown to a variety of people, I am aware that those who till now have heard little of Mr. Johnson will here cry out against his pride and his severity ; yet I have been as careful as I could to tell them, that all he did was gentle, if all he said was rough. Had I given anecdotes of his actions instead of his words, we should, I am sure, have had nothing on record but acts of virtue differently modified, as different occasions called that virtue forth : and among all the nine biographical essays or performances which I have heard will at last be written about dear Dr. Johnson, no mean or wretched, no wicked or even slightly culpable, action will, I trust, be found, to produce and put in the scale against a life of seventy years, spent in the uniform practice of every moral ex- cellence and every Christian perfection, save humility alone, says a critic ; but that, I think, must be excepted. He was not, however, wanting even in that to a degree seldom attained by man, when the duties of piety or charity called it forth. Lowly towards God, and docile towards the church ; implicit in his belief of the gospel, and ever respectful towards the people appointed to preach it ; tender of the unhappy, and affectionate to the poor, let no one hastily condemn as proud, a character which may perhaps some- what justly be censured as arrogant. It must however be remembered again, that even this arrogance was never shown without some intention, immediate or remote, of mending some fault or conveying some instruction. Had I meant to make a panegyric on Mr. Johnson's well- known excellencies, I should have told his deeds only, not his words — sincerely protesting, that as I never saw him once do a wrong thing, so we had accustomed ourselves to look upon him almost as an excepted being ; and I should as much have expected injustice from Socrates, or impiety from Pascal, as the slightest deviation from truth and goodness in any transaction one might be engaged in with Samuel Johnson. f 4 72 JOHNSONIANA. 1 06. Veracity, — Clarissa. — Amelia. His attention to veracity was without equal or example : and when I mentioned Clarissa as a perfect character ; " On the contrary," said he, " you may observe there is always something which she prefers to truth. Fielding's Amelia was the most pleasing heroine of all the ro- mances," he said ; " but that vile broken nose, never cured, ruined the sale of perhaps the only book, which, being printed off betimes one morning, a new edition was called for before night." 107. Lucy Porter. — Contradiction. His wife's daughter, Mrs. Lucy Porter of Litchfield, whose veneration for his person and character has ever been the greatest possible, being opposed one day in con- versation by a clergyman who came often to her house, and feeling somewhat offended, cried out suddenly, " Why, Mr. Pearson," said she, " you are just like Dr. Johnson, I think : I do not mean that you are a man of the greatest capacity in all the world like Dr. Johnson, but that you contradict one every word one speaks, just like him." Mr. Johnson told me the story : he was present at the giving of the reproof. It was, however, observable that with all his odd severity, he could not keep even indifferent people from teasing him with un- accountable confessions of silly conduct, which one would think they would scarcely have had inclination to reveal even to their tenderest and most intimate companions ; and it was from these unaccountable volunteers in sincerity, that he learned to warn the world against follies little known, and seldom thought on by other moralists. 108. Vows. Much of his eloquence, and much of his logic, have I heard him use to prevent men from making vows on trivial occasion ; and when he saw a person oddly per- plexed about a slight difficulty, " Let the man alone," he would say, " and torment him no more about it: there is a vow in the case, I am convinced ; but is it not very piozzi. IS strange, that people should be neither afraid nor ashamed of bringing in God Almighty thus at every turn between themselves and their dinner ? " When I asked what ground he had for such imaginations, he informed me, that " a young lady once told him in confidence, that she could never persuade herself to be dressed against the bell rung for dinner, till she had made a vow to Heaven, that she would never more be absent from the family meals." 109. Scruples of Conscience, The strangest applications in the world were certainly made from time to time towards Mr. Johnson ; who by that means had an inexhaustible fund of anecdote, and could, if he pleased, tell the most astonishing stories of human folly and human weakness, that ever were confided to any man not a confessor by profession. One day when he was in a humour to record some of them, he told us the following tale : "A person," said he, " had for these last five weeks often called at my door, but would not leave his name, or other message ; but that he wished to speak with me. At last we met, and he told me that he was oppressed by scruples of conscience. I blamed him gently for not applying, as the rules of our church direct, to his parish priest or other discreet clergyman ; when, after some compliments on his part, he told me, that he was clerk to a very eminent trader, at whose warehouses much business con- sisted in packing goods in order to go abroad : that he was often tempted to take paper and packthread enough for his own use, and that he had indeed done so so often, that he could recollect no time when he ever had bought any for himself. c But probably/ said I, ' your master was wholly indifferent with regard to such trivial emolu- ments ; you had better ask for it at once, and so take your trifles with consent.' ' Oh, Sir ! ' replies the visitor, ' my master bid me have as much as I pleased, and was half angry when I talked to him about it.' * Then pray, Sir,' said I, * tease me no more about such airy no- things;' — and was going on to be very angry, when I 74 JOHNSONrANA. recollected that the fellow might be mad perhaps : so I asked him when he left the counting-house of an evening? * At seven o'clock, Sir.' f And when do you go to bed, Sir ?' < At twelve o'clock.' < Then,' replied I, < I have at least learned thus much by my new acquaintance ; — that five hours of the four-and-twenty unemployed are enough for a man to go mad in ; so I would advise you, Sir, to study algebra, if you are not an adept already in it : your head would get less muddy > and you will leave off tormenting your neighbours about paper and pack- thread, while we all live together in a world that is burst- ing with sin and sorrow.' It is perhaps needless to add, that this visitor came no more." 110. Luck with Pupils. He had not much luck with two boys that he used to tell of, to whom he had taught the classics, " so that," he said, " they were no incompetent or mean scholars :" it was necessary, however, that something more familiar should be known, and he bid them read the History of England. After a few months had elapsed, he asked them " if they could recollect who first destroyed the monasteries in our island ?" One modestly replied, that he did not know ; the other said, Jesus Christ. 111. " Burke in a Bag" An Irish trader at our house one day heard Dr. Johnson launch out into very great and greatly deserved praises of Mr. Edmund Burke : delighted to find his countryman stood so high in the opinion of a man he had been told so much of, " Sir," said he, " give me leave to tell something of Mr. Burke now." We were all silent, and the honest Hibernian began to relate how Mr. Burke went to see the collieries in a distant province ; and " he would go down into the bowels of the earth in a bag, and he would ex- amine every thing : he went in a bag, Sir, and ventured his health and his life for knowledge ; but he took care of his clothes, that they should not be spoiled, for he went down in a bag." " Well, Sir," says Mr. Johnson, good- humouredly, " if our friend Mund should die in any of PIOZZI. 75 these hazardous exploits, you and I would write his life and panegyric together ; and your chapter of it should be entitled thus : ' Burke in a Bag? " He had always a very great personal regard and particular affection for Mr. Edmund Burke, as well as an esteem difficult for me to repeat, though for him only easy to express. And when, at the end of the year 1774, the general election called us all different ways, and broke up the delightful society in which we had spent some time at Beaconsfield, Dr. Johnson shook the hospitable master of the house kindly by the hand, and said, " Farewell, my dear Sir, and remember that I wish you all the success which ought to be wished you, which can possibly be wished you indeed — by an honest man." 112. Sorrows of Vanity. When I have told how many follies Dr. Johnson knew of others, I must not omit to mention with how much fidelity he would always have kept them concealed, could they of whom he knew the absurdities have been contented, in the common phrase, to keep their own counsel. But, returning home one day from dining at the chaplain's table, he told me, that Dr. Goldsmith had given a very comical and unnecessarily exact recital there, of his own feelings when his play was hissed ; telling the company how he went indeed to the Literary Club at night, and chatted gaily among his friends, as if nothing had hap- pened amiss ; that to impress them still more forcibly with an idea of his magnanimity, he even sang his favourite song about an old woman tossed in a blanket seventeen times as high as the moon : " but all this while I was suffering horrid tortures," said he, " and verily believe that if I had put a bit into my mouth it would have strangled me on the spot, I was so excessively ill ; but I made more noise than usual to cover all that, and so they never perceived my not eating, nor, I believe, at all imaged to themselves the anguish of my heart : but when all were gone except Johnson here, I burst out a crying, and even swore that I would never write again. " All which, Doctor," says Mr. Johnson, amazed at his odd frankness, 76 JOHNSONIANA. " I thought had been a secret between you and me ; and I am sure I would not have said any thing about it for the world." " Now see," repeated he, when he told the story, " what a figure a man makes who thus unaccount- ably chooses to be the frigid narrator of his own disgrace. 77 volto scioltOy ed i pensieri stretti, was a proverb made on purpose for such mortals, to keep people, if possible, from being thus the heralds of their own shame : for what compassion can they gain by such silly narratives ? No man should be expected to sympathise with the sorrows of vanity. If, then, you are mortified by any ill usage, whether real or supposed, keep at least the account of such mortifications to yourself, and forbear to proclaim how meanly you are thought on by others, unless you desire to be meanly thought of by all." 113. Superfluous Ingenuity. — Nicknames. The little history of another friend's superfluous in- genuity will contribute to introduce a similar remark. He had a daughter of about fourteen years old, as I re- member, fat and clumsy : and though the father adored, and desired others to adore her, yet being aware perhaps that she was not what the French call petrie des graces, and thinking, I suppose, that the old maxim, of beginning to laugh at yourself first where you have any thing ridi- culous about you, was a good one, he comically enough called his girl Trundle when he spoke of her ; and many who bore neither of them any ill-will felt disposed to laugh at the happiness of the appellation. " See now," says Dr. Johnson, " what haste people are in to be hooted. Nobody ever thought of this fellow nor of his daughter, could he but have been quiet himself, and forborne to call the eyes of the world on his dowdy and her deformity. But it teaches one to see at least, that if nobody else will nickname one's children, the parents will e'en do it them- selves." 114. " Blinking Sam" All this held true in matters to Mr. Johnson of more serious consequence. When Sir Joshua Reynolds had piozzi. 77 painted his portrait looking into the slit of his pen, and holding- it almost close to his eye, as was his general custom, he felt displeased, and told me, " he would not be known by posterity for his defects only, let Sir Joshua do his worst." I said, in reply, that Reynolds had no such difficulties about himself, and that he might observe the picture which hung up in the room where we were talking, represented Sir Joshua holding his ear in his hand to catch the sound. " He may paint himself as deaf if he chooses," replied Johnson ; " but I will not be blinking Sam." 115. Shahspeare. It is chiefly for the sake of evincing the regularity and steadiness of Mr. Johnson's mind that I have given these trifling memoirs, to show that his soul was not different from that of another person, but, as it was, greater ; and to give those who did not know him a just idea of his acquiescence in what we call vulgar prejudices, and of his extreme distance from those notions which the world has agreed, I know not very well why, to call romantic. It is, indeed, observable in his preface to Shakspeare, that while other critics expatiate on the creative powers and vivid imagination of that matchless poet, Dr. Johnson commends him for giving so just a representation of human manners, " that from his scenes a hermit might estimate the value of society, and a confessor predict the progress of the passions." 116. Choice of a Wife. The general and constant advice he gave, too, when consulted about the choice of a wife, a profession, or whatever influences a man's particular and immediate hap- piness, was always to reject no positive good from fears of its contrary consequences. " Do not," said he, " for- bear to marry a beautiful woman, if you can find such, out of a fancy that she will be less constant than an ugly one ; or condemn yourself to the society of coarseness and vulgarity for fear of the expenses, or other dangers, of elegance and personal charms ; which have been always 78 JOHNSONIANA. acknowledged as a positive good, and for the want of which there should be always given some weighty com- pensation. I have, however," continued Mr. Johnson, " seen some prudent fellows who forbore to connect them- selves with beauty lest coquetry should be near, and with wit or birth lest insolence should lurk behind them, till they have been forced by their discretion to linger life away in tasteless stupidity, and choose to count the mo- ments by remembrance of pain instead of enjoyment of pleasure." 117. Professions. — Roger Ascham. When professions were talked of, " Scorn," said Mr. Johnson, " to put your behaviour under the dominion of canters : never think it clever to call physic a mean study, or law a dry one ; or ask a baby of seven years old which way his genius leads him, when we all know that a boy of seven years old has no genius for any thing except a peg- top and an apple-pie ; but fix on some business where much money may be got and little virtue risked : follow that business steadily, and do not live as Roger Ascham says the wits do, ' men know not how ; and at last die obscurely r , men mark not where, 9 " 118. Opinion of the World. Dr. Johnson had a veneration for the voice of mankind beyond what most people will own ; and as he liberally confessed that all his own disappointments proceeded from himself, he hated to hear others complain of general in- justice. I remember when lamentation was made of the neglect showed to Jeremiah Markland, a great philologist, as some one ventured to call him : — " He is a scholar, undoubtedly, Sir," replied Dr. Johnson ; " but remember that he would run from the world, and that it is not the world's business to run after him. I hate a fellow whom pride, or cowardice, or laziness drives into a corner, and does nothing when he is there but sit and growl ; let him come out as I do, and bark" l 1 [Mr. Markland, who has favoured me with many kind and useful sugges- tions, observes on this passage, that ''Johnson's censure was undeserved. Jere- piozzi. 79 119. Retirement from the World. " The world," added he, "is chiefly unjust and ungenerous in this, that all are ready to encourage a man who once talks of leaving it, and few things do really provoke me more, than to hear people prate of retirement, when they have neither skill to discern their own motives, nor pene- tration to estimate the consequences ; but while a fellow is active to gain either power or wealth," continued he, " every body produces some hinderance to his advance- ment, some sage remark, or some unfavourable prediction ; but let him once say slightly, I have had enough of this troublesome bustling world, 't is time to leave it now : * Ah, dear Sir ! ' cries the first old acquaintance he meets, ' I am glad to find you in this happy disposition : yes, dear friend ! do retire, and think of nothing but your own ease : there 's Mr. William will find it a pleasure to settle all your accounts, and relieve you from the fatigue ; Miss Dolly makes the charmingest chicken broth in the world, and the cheesecakes we eat of hers once, how good they were : I will be coming every two or three days myself miah Markland was certainly no growler. He sought for, because he loved, retirement ; and rejected all the honours and rewards which were liberally offered to his acceptance. During a long life, he devoted himself unceasingly to those pursuits for which he was best fitted, collating the classics, and illustrating the Scriptures. ' Sequantur alii famam, aucupentur divitias, hie ilia oculis irretortis contemplatus, post terga constanter rejecit .... In solitudinem se recepit, studiis excolendis etpauperibus sublevandis uniceintentus.' Such is the character given of Markland by his pupil and friend Edward Clarke." Mrs. Piozzi's flippant ex- pression ("a great philologist, as some one ventured to call him ") will excite a smile, when we recollect what Markland has done as a philologist, and the esti- mation in which he has been held both by the most learned of his contemporar'cs (including Johnson himself), and the most distinguished scholars of our own time. Dr. Burney, in a tone of the highest panegyric, numbered him with Bentley, Dawes, Toup, and Porson ; and a still later writer has thus candidly enumerated his merits : " Markland was endowed with a respectable portion of judgment and sagacity. He was very laborious, loved retirement, and spent a long life in the study of the Greek and Latin languages. For modesty, candour, literary honesty, and courteousness to other scholars, he is justly considered as the mode which ought to be proposed for the imitation of every critic." — Quart. Rev. vol. vii. p. 442. : so far Mr. Markland. It is but just to all parties, that I should add, that (whatever Johnson may have said in the current of conversation, and probably in allusion to some minute and unrecorded circum- stance,) he had a fixed respect for the talents and character of Markland. For it appears that, on the 20th October, 1782, he wrote to Mr. Nichols, urging him to obtain some record of the Life of Markland, who, with Jortin and Thirlby, he calls three contemporaries of great eminence. ■ — C] 80 JOHNSONIANA. to chat with you in a quiet way ; so snug ! and tell you how matters go upon 'Change/ or in the House, or, ac- cording to the blockhead's first pursuits, whether lucrative or politic, which thus he leaves ; and lays himself down a voluntary prey to his own sensuality and sloth, while the ambition and avarice of the nephews and nieces, with their rascally adherents and coadjutors, reap the advantage, while they fatten their fool." 120. Marrying far Money, As the votaries of retirement had little of Mr. Johnson's applause, unless he knew that the motives were merely devotional, and unless he was convinced that their rituals were accompanied by a mortified state of the body, the sole proof of their sincerity which he would admit, as a compensation for such fatigue as a worldly life of care and activity requires ; so of the various states and con- ditions of humanity, he despised none more, I think, than the man who marries for a maintenance : and of a friend who made his alliance on no higher principles, he said once, " Now has that fellow" (it was a nobleman of whom we were speaking) " at length obtained a certainty of three meals a day, and for that certainty, like his brother dog in the fable, he will get his neck galled for life with a collar." 121. Poverty, That poverty was an evil to be avoided by all honest means however, no man was more ready to avow : con- cealed poverty particularly, which he said was the general corrosive that destroyed the peace of almost every family ; to which no evening perhaps ever returned without some new project for hiding the sorrows and clangers of the next day. " Want of money," says Dr. Johnson, " is sometimes concealed under pretended avarice, and sly hints of aversion to part with it ; sometimes under stormy anger, and affectation of boundless rage ; but oftener still under a show of thoughtless extravagance and gay neglect ; while, to a penetrating eye, none of these wretched veils suffice to keep the cruel truth from PIOZZI. 81 being seen. Poverty is hie et ubique" says he ; " and if you do shut the jade out of the door, she will always contrive, in some manner, to poke her pale lean face in at the window." 122. Old Age.— Bogs. I have mentioned before, that old age had very little of Mr. Johnson's reverence : "A man commonly grew wickeder as he grew older," he said, " at least he but changed the vices of youth ; headstrong passion and wild temerity, for treacherous caution and desire to circumvent. I am always," said he, " on the young people's side, when there is a dispute between them and the old ones : for you have at least a chance for virtue till age has withered its very root." While we were talking, my mother's spaniel, whom he never loved, stole our toast and butter ; " Fie, Belle ! " said I, " you used to be upon honour." " Yes, Madam," replies Johnson, " but Belle grows old." His reason for hating the dog was, " because she was a professed favourite," he said, " and because her lady ordered her from time to time to be washed and combed : a foolish trick," said he, " and an assumption of superiority that every one's nature revolts at ; so because one must not wish ill to the lady in such cases," continued he, " one curses the cur." The truth is, Belle was not well be- haved, and being a large spaniel, was troublesome enough at dinner with frequent solicitations to be fed. " This animal," said Dr. Johnson one day, " would have been of extraordinary merit and value in the state of Ly- curgus ; for she condemns one to the exertion of perpetual vigilance." 123. Cats. — Hodge 9 s Oysters. He had that strong aversion felt by all the lower ranks of people towards four-footed companions very completely, notwithstanding he had, for many years, a cat which he called Hodge, that kept always in his room at Fleet Street ; but so exact was he not to offend the human species by superfluous attention to brutes, that when the G 82 JOHNSONIANA. creature was grown sick and old, and could eat nothing but oysters, Mr. Johnson always went out himself to buy Hodge's dinner, that Francis the black's delicacy might not be hurt, at seeing himself employed for the con- venience of a quadruped. 124. Mr, Cholmondeley. No one was so attentive not to offend in all such sort of things as Dr. Johnson ; nor so careful to maintain the ceremonies of life : and though he told Mr. Thrale once, that he had never sought to please till past thirty years old, considering the matter as hopeless, he had been always studious not to make enemies, by apparent pre- ference of himself. It happened very comically, that the moment this curious conversation past, of which I was a silent auditress, was in the coach, in some distant pro- vince, either Shropshire or Derbyshire I believe ; and as soon as it was over, Mr. Johnson took out of his pocket a little book and read, while a gentleman of no small distinction for his birth and elegance suddenly rode up to the carriage, and paying us all his proper compliments, was desirous not to neglect Dr. Johnson ; but observing that he did not see him, tapped him gently on the shoulder. " 'T is Mr. Cholmondeley," says my husband. " Well, Sir! and what if it is Mr. Cholmondeley ?" says the other sternly, just lifting his eyes a moment from his book, and returning to it again with renewed avidity. l 1 [For Boswell's strictures on this passage, see Life, Vol. VIII. p. 347. I subjoin Mr. Cholmondeley's own account of the circumstance, which however only confirms Mrs. Piozzi's statement: — " In the year 1774 I was making a tour of Derbyshire in a gig with Windham. Just as we came to the point of the hill going down into Matlock, we saw Mr. Thrale's carriage and four, in which were Dr. Johnson, Mr. and Mrs. Thrale : the horses were breathing after ascending the hill : we had heard they were in those parts ; of course this rencontre excited some interest. I, with all the conceit of a young man, saying, ' I know Dr. Johnson very well, I '11 manage it all ; ' tripped very pertly from the gig to the carriage, shook hands with Mr. and Mrs. Thrale, who were very glad to see me as people are glad in a commonplace way. Dr. Johnson took not the smallest notice ; on which Mr. Thrale said, ' Dr. Johnson, here is Mr. Chol- mondeley.' Dr. Johnson neither spoke nor moved. He repeated, ' Dr. John- son, here is Mr. Cholmondeley.' Dr. Johnson was equally silent. Mr. Thrale repeated it a third time ; when Dr. Johnson answered, ' Well, Sir ! and what if there is Mr. Cholmondeley ? ' I, of course, tripped back again, much entertained at the humorous way in which my conceit had been put down. I imagine Mrs. 8 " I piozzi. 83 125. " In Vino Veritas." It was unlucky for those who delighted to echo John- son's sentiments, that he would not endure from them to-day, what perhaps he had yesterday, by his own manner of treating the subject, made them fond of repeat- ing ; and I fancy Mr. Boswell has not forgotten, that though his friend one evening in a gay humour talked in praise of wine, as one of the blessings permitted by Heaven when used with moderation, to lighten the load of life, and give men strength to endure it ; yet, when in consequence of such talk he thought fit to make a Bac- chanalian discourse in its favour, Mr. Johnson contra- dicted him somewhat roughly, as I remember ; and when, to assure himself of conquest, he added these words, " You must allow me, Sir, at least, that it produces truth ; in vino Veritas, you know, Sir." " That," re- plied Mr. Johnson, " would be useless to a man who knew he was not a liar when he was sober." 1 26. Ossian. — Macpherson. When one talks of giving and taking the lie familiarly, it is impossible to forbear recollecting the transactions between the editor of Ossian and the author of the Journey to the Hebrides. It was most observable to me, however, that Mr. Johnson never bore his antagonist the slightest Thrale must, in some dispute, have reproached him with this, as an instance of unprovoked brutality towards an unoffending person. Four years afterwards, I went to dine at Mr. Thrale's, at Brighton. The house was small ; the passage running close by the room into the street. I arrived before Dr. Johnson was dressed. When he entered the room, he said, ' George, I want to speak to you.' He led me from the passage into the street ; then said, ' George, I owe you re- paration for an injury which I do not recollect. I am told that, some years ago, I met you on the point of Matlock Hill, and spoke to you with unjustifi- able insolence : whether I was thinking of something else, or whether I had been quarrelling with Thrale, I know not ; but I ought not so to have insulted an innocent unoffending young man ; and I beg your pardon.' I told this to Mrs. Thrale, with all the animation such a beautiful trait was calculated to inspire ; and after she published her garbled account of it, I called upon her, reminded her of this circumstance, pointed out to her how characteristic an anecdote it was, of a man whose temper was harsh, but whose principles were charitable in the ex- treme, and who was, consequently, always in a state of repentance for imaginary injuries : I enjoined her, by the love of truth and justice, to publish another edition of it, which she never did." — C] G 2 84 JOHNSONIANA. degree of ill-will. He always kept those quarrels which belonged to him as a writer, separate from those which he had to do with as a man ; but I never did hear him say in private one malicious word of a public enemy ; and of Mr. Macpherson I once heard him speak respectfully, though his reply to the friend who asked him if any man living could have written such a book is well known, and has been often repeated : " Yes, Sir ; many men, many women, and many children." I inquired of him myself if this story was authentic, and he said it was. I made the same inquiry concerning his account of the state of literature in Scotland, which was repeated up and down at one time by every body, — " How knowledge is divided among the Scots, like bread in a besieged town, to every man a mouthful, to no man a bellyful." This story he likewise acknowledged, and said besides, that " some officious friend had carried it to Lord Bute, who only answered, ' Well, well ! never mind what he says — he will have the pension all one.' " 1 27. Prospects. — Glasgow and Brentford. — View on the St. Lawrence. Another famous reply to a Scotsman who commended the beauty and dignity of Glasgow, till Mr. Johnson stopped him by observing, that " he probably had never yet seen Brentford," was one of the jokes he owned : and said himself, that " when a gentleman of that country once mentioned the lovely prospects common in his nation, he could not help telling him, that the view of the London road was the prospect in which every Scotsman most naturally and most rationally delighted." Mrs. Brook received an answer not unlike this, when expatiating on the accumulation of sublime and beautiful objects, which form the fine prospect up the river St. Lawrence in North America : — " Come, Madam," says Dr. Johnson, " con- fess that nothing ever equalled your pleasure in seeing that sight reversed ; and finding yourself looking at the happy prospect down the river St. Lawrence." piozzi* 85 128. Gardening. — Country Life. The truth is, he hated to hear about prospects and views, and laying out ground and taste in gardening : " That was the best garden," he said, " which produced most roots and fruits ; and that water was most to be prized which contained most fish." He used to laugh at Shenstone most unmercifully for not caring whether there was any thing good to eat in the streams he was so fond of; " as if," says Johnson, " one could fill one's belly with hearing soft murmurs, or looking at rough cascades ! " He loved the sight of fine forest trees, however, and de- tested Brighthelmstone Downs, " because it was a country so truly desolate," he said, " that if one had a mind to hang one's self for desperation at being obliged to live there, it would be difficult to find a tree on which to fasten the rope." Walking in a wood when it rained, was, I think, the only rural image he pleased his fancy with ; " for," says he, " after one has gathered the apples in an orchard, one wishes them well baked, and removed to a London eating-house for enjoyment." 1 With such notions, who can wonder he passed his time uncomfortably enough with us, whom he often complained of for living so much in the country ; " feeding the chickens," as he said I did, " till I starved my own under- standing. Get, however," said he, " a book about gar- dening, and study it hard, since you will pass your life with birds and flowers, and learn to raise the largest turnips, and to breed the biggest fowls." It was vain to assure him that the goodness of such dishes did not depend upon their size ; he laughed at the people who covered their canals with foreign fowls, "when," says he, "our own geese and ganders are twice as large : if we fetched better animals from distant nations, there might be some sense in the preference ; but to get cows from Alderney, or water-fowl from China, only to see nature degenerating round one, is a poor ambition indeed." 1 [This reminds one of Caraccioli's lemark, that "the only fruit in England that ripened in the open air were apples, for they were roasted." — Fonnereau.-i G 3 86 JOHNSONIANA. 129. Amusements. Nor was Mr. Johnson more merciful with regard to the amusements people are contented to call such : " You hunt in the morning," says he, "and crowd to the public rooms at night, and call it diversion ; when your heart knows it is perishing with poverty of pleasures, and your wits get blunted for want of some other mind to sharpen them upon. There is in this world no real delight (ex- cepting those of sensuality), but exchange of ideas in con- versation ; and whoever has once experienced the full flow of London talk, when he retires to country friendships and rural sports, must either be contented to turn baby again and play with the rattle, or he will pine away like a great fish in a little pond, and die for want of his usual food." 130. Knowledge of Life. " Books without the knowledge of life are useless," I have heard him say ; "for what should books teach but the art of living f To study manners however only in coffee-houses, is more than equally imperfect : the minds of men who acquire no solid learning, and only exist on the daily forage that they pick up by running about, and snatching what drops from their neighbours as ignorant as themselves, will never ferment into any knowledge valuable or durable ; but like the light wines we drink in hot countries, please for the moment though incapable of keeping. In the study of mankind much will be found to swim as froth, and much must sink as feculence, before the wine can have its effect, and become that noblest liquor which rejoices the heart, and gives vigour to the imagina- tion." 131. Disguise. Fear of what others may think, is the great cause of af- fectation ; and he was not likely to disguise his notions out of cowardice. He hated disguise, and nobody penetrated it so readily. I showed him a letter written to a common friend, who was at some loss for the explanation of it : " Whoever wrote it," says our Doctor, " could, if he piozzi. 87 chose it, make himself understood ; but 't is the letter of an embarrassed man, Sir; 99 and so the event proved it to be. 132. Mysteriousness. Mysteriousness in trifles offended him on every side : " it commonly ended in guilt," he said ; " for those who begin by concealment of innocent things, will , soon have something to hide which they dare not bring to light." He therefore encouraged an openness of conduct', in women particularly, " who," he observed, " were often led away when children, by their delight and power of surprising." 133. Superfluous Gunning, — Conferring Favours. He recommended, on something like the same principle, that when one person meant to serve another, he should not go about it slily, or, as we say, underhand, out of a false idea of delicacy, to surprise one's friend with an un- expected favour ; " which, ten to one," says he, " fails to oblige your acquaintance, who had some reasons against such a mode of obligation, which you might have known but for that superfluous cunning which you think an elegance. " Oh ! never be seduced by such silly pretences," con- tinued he ; " if a wench wants a good gown, do not give her a fine smelling-bottle, because that is more delicate ; as I once knew a lady lend the key of her library to a poor scribbling dependant, as if she took the woman for an ostrich, that could digest iron." He said, indeed, that " women were very difficult to be taught the proper manner of conferring pecuniary favours : that they always gave too much money or too little ; for that they had an idea of delicacy accompanying their gifts, so that they generally rendered them either useless or ridiculous." 134. General Sarcasms. He did indeed say very contemptuous things of our sex ; but was exceedingly angry when I told Miss Reynolds that he said, " It was well managed of some one to leave his affairs in the hands of his wife, because, in matters of g 4 88 JOHNSONIANA. business," said he, " no woman stops at integrity. " This was, I think, the only sentence I ever observed him soli- citous to explain away after he had uttered it. He was not at all displeased at the recollection of a sarcasm thrown on a whole profession at once ; when a gentleman leaving the company, somebody who sat next Dr. Johnson asked him, who he was ? " I cannot exactly tell you, Sir," replied he, " and I would be loath to speak ill of any person who I do not know deserves it, but I am afraid he is an attorney" He did not however encourage general satire, and for the most part professed himself to feel directly contrary to Dr. Swift ; " who," says he, " hates the world, though he loves John and Robert, and certain individuals." Johnson said always, that " the world was well constructed, but that the particular people disgraced the elegance and beauty of the general fabric." 135. Needle-work. Needle-work had a strenuous approver in Dr. Johnson, who said, that " one of the great felicities of female life, was the general consent of the world, that they might amuse themselves with petty occupations, which contri- buted to the lengthening their lives, and preserving their minds in a state of sanity." " A man cannot hem a pocket-handkerchief," said a lady of quality to him one day, " and so he runs mad, and torments his family and friends." The expression struck him exceedingly ; and when one acquaintance grew troublesome, and another unhealthy, he used to quote Lady Frances's l observation, that " a man cannot hem a pocket-handkerchief." 136. " Nice People: 9 The nice people found no mercy from Mr. Johnson ; such I mean as can dine only at four o'clock, who cannot bear to be waked at an unusual hour, or miss a stated meal without inconvenience. He had no such prejudices himself, and with difficulty forgave them in another. " Delicacy does not surely consist," says he, "in im- [ l Lady Frances Burgoyne, daughter of the last Lord Halifax. — C] piozzi. 89 possibility to be pleased, and tbat is false dignity indeed which is content to depend upon others." 137. Conversation. The saying of the old philosopher, who observes, that " he who wants least is most like the gods, who want nothing," was a favourite sentence with Dr. Johnson ; who on his own part required less attendance, sick or well, than ever I saw any human creature. Conversation was all he required to make him happy ; and when he would have tea made at two o'clock in the morning, it was only that there might be a certainty of detaining his companions round him. On that principle it was that he preferred winter to summer, when the heat of the weather gave people an excuse to stroll about, and walk for plea- sure in the shade, while he wished to sit still on a chair, and chat day after day, till somebody proposed a drive in the coach ; and that was the most delicious moment of his life. " But the carriage must stop sometime," as he said, " and the people would come home at last ;" so his plea- sure was of short duration. 138. Love of a Coach. I asked him why he doated on a coach so ? and received for answer, that " in the first place, the company was shut in with him there ; and could not escape, as out of a room : in the next place, he heard all that was said in a carriage, where it was my turn to be deaf:" and very impatient was he at my occasional difficulty of hearing. On this account he wished to travel all over the world ; for the very act of going forward was delightful to him, and he gave himself no concern about accidents, which he said never happened : nor did the running away of the horses on the edge of a precipice between Vernon and St. Denys in France convince him to the contrary ; " for nothing came of it," he said, " except that Mr. Thrale leaped out of the carriage into a chalk-pit, and then came up again, looking as white /" — when the truth was, all their lives were saved by the greatest providence ever exerted in favour of three human creatures ; and the part Mr. Thrale 90 JOHNSONIANA. took from desperation was the likeliest thing in the world to produce broken limbs and death. 139. Fear. Fear was indeed a sensation to which Mr. Johnson was an utter stranger, excepting when some sudden appre- hension seized him that he was going to die ; and even then he kept all his wits about him, to express the most humble and pathetic petitions to the Almighty : and when the first paralytic stroke took his speech from him, he instantly set about composing a prayer in Latin, at once to deprecate God's mercy, to satisfy himself that his mental powers remained unimpaired, and to keep them in exercise, that they might not perish by permitted stagna- tion. 1 When one day he had at my house taken tincture of antimony instead of emetic wine, for a vomit, he was himself the person to direct us what to do for him, and managed with as much coolness and deliberation, as if he had been prescribing for an indifferent person. Though on another occasion, when he had lamented in the most piercing terms his approaching dissolution, and conjured me solemnly to tell him what I thought, while Sir Richard Jebb was perpetually on the road to Streatham, and Mr. Johnson seemed to think himself neglected if the physician left him for an hour only, I made him a steady, but as I thought a very gentle harangue, in which I con- firmed all that the doctor had been saying, how no pre- sent danger could be expected ; but that his age and continued ill health must naturally accelerate the arrival of that hour which can be escaped by none : " And this," says Johnson, rising in great anger, " is the voice of female friendship, I suppose, when the hand of the hang- man would be softer ! " Another day, when he was ill, and exceedingly low- spirited, and persuaded that death was not far distant, I appeared before him in a dark-coloured gown, which his bad sight and worse apprehensions made him mistake for an iron-grey. " Why do you delight," said he, " thus » [See Boswell, Vol. VIII. p. 223.] PIOZZI. 91 to thicken the gloom of misery that surrounds me ? Is not here sufficient accumulation of horror without antici- pated mourning?" " This is not mourning, Sir," said I, drawing the curtain, that the light might fall upon the silk, and show it was a purple mixed with green. " Well, well," replied he, changing his voice, " you little creatures should never wear those sort of clothes, however ; they are unsuitable in every way. What ! have not all insects gay colours ? " I relate these instances chiefly to show that the fears of death itself could not suppress his wit, his sagacity, or his temptation to sudden resentment. 140. Don Quixote. " Alas, Madam !" said he, one day, " how few books are there of which one ever can possibly arrive at the last page ! Was there ever yet any thing written by mere man that was wished longer by its readers, excepting Don Quixote, Robinson Crusoe, and the Pilgrim's Progress?" After Homer's Iliad, Mr. Johnson confessed that the work of Cervantes was the greatest in the world, speaking of it I mean as a book of entertainment. 141. French Literature. Dr. Johnson was a great reader of French literature, and delighted exceedingly in Boileau's works. Moliere I think he had hardly sufficient taste of; and he used to condemn me for preferring La Bruyere to the Due de Rochefoucault, " who," he said, " was the only gentleman writer who wrote like a professed author." 142. Life of a Sailor. " The life of a sailor was also a continued scene of dan- ger and exertion," he said, " and the manner in which time was spent on shipboard would make all who saw a cabin envy a gaol." The roughness of the language used on board a man-of-war, where he passed a week on a visit to Captain Knight, disgusted him terribly. He asked an officer what some place was called, and received for an- swer, that it was where the loplolly man kept his loplolly : a reply, he considered, not unjustly, as disrespectful, 92 JOHNSONIANA. gross, and ignorant ; for though I have been led to men- tion Dr. Johnson's tenderness towards poor people, I do not wish to mislead my readers, and make them think he had any delight in mean manners or coarse expressions. 143. Dress. Even dress itself, when it resembled that of the vulgar, offended him exceedingly ; and when he had condemned me many times for not adorning my children with more show than I thought useful or elegant, I presented a little girl to him who came o' visiting one evening covered with shining ornaments, to see if he would approve of the appearance she made. When they were gone home, " Well, Sir," said I, "how did you like little miss? I hope she was fine enough." " It was the finery of a beggar," said he, " and you know it was ; she looked like a native of Cow Lane dressed up to be carried to Bar- tholomew fair." His reprimand to another lady for crossing her little child's handkerchief before, and by that operation dragging down its head oddly and unintentionally, was on the same principle. "It is the beggar's fear of cold," said he, " that prevails over such parents, and so they pull the poor thing's head down, and give it the look of a baby that plays about Westminster Bridge, while the mother sits shivering in a niche." It was indeed astonishing how he could remark such minuteness with a sight so miserably imperfect ; but no accidental position of a riband escaped him, so nice was his observation, and so rigorous his demands of propriety. When I went with him to Lichfield, and came down stairs to breakfast at the inn, my dress did not please him, and he made me alter it entirely before he would stir a step with us about the town, saying most satirical things con- cerning the appearance I made in a riding-habit ; and adding, " 'Tis very strange that such eyes as yours can- not discern propriety of dress : if I had a sight only half as good, I think I should see to the centre." My compliances, however, were of little worth : what really surprised me was the victory he gained over a lady piozzr. 93 little accustomed to contradiction, who had dressed herself for church at Streatham one Sunday morning in a manner he did not approve, and to whom he said such sharp and pungent things concerning her hat, her gown, &c. that she hastened to change them, and returning quite another figure received his applause, and thanked him for his reproofs, much to the amazement of her husband, who could scarcely believe his own ears. Another lady, whose accomplishments he never denied, came to our house one day covered with diamonds, fea- thers, &c, and he did not seem inclined to chat with her as usual. I asked him why ? when the company was gone. " Why ; her head looked so like that of a woman who shows puppets," said he, "and her voice so con- firmed the fancy, that I could not bear her to-day ; when she wears a large cap, I can talk to her." When the ladies wore lace trimmings to their clothes, he expressed his contempt of the reigning fashion in these terms : — "A Brussels trimming is like bread sauce," said he ; " it takes away the glow of colour from the gown, and gives you nothing instead of it ; but sauce was invented to heighten the flavour of our food, and trimming is an ornament to the manteau, or it is nothing. Learn," said he, " that there is propriety or impropriety in every thing, how slight soever, and get at the general principles of dress and of behaviour ; if you then trans- gress them, you will at least know that they are not ob- served." 144. Mrs. Piozzi's Account of her Rupture with Johnson. All these exactnesses in a man who was nothing less than exact himself, made him extremely impracticable as an inmate, though most instructive as a companion, and useful as a friend. Mr. Thrale, too, could sometimes overrule his rigidity, by saying coldly, " There, there, now we have had enough for one lecture, Dr. Johnson ; we will not be upon education any more till after dinner, if you please," — or some such speech : but when there was nobody to restrain his dislikes, it was extremely dif- 94 JOHNSONIANA. ficult to find any body with whom he could converse, without living always on the verge of a quarrel, or of something too like a quarrel to be pleasing. I came into the room, for example, one evening, where he and a gentleman, whose abilities we all respect ex- ceedingly, were sitting ; a lady who walked in two mi- nutes before me had blown 'em both into a flame, by whispering something to Mr. Seward, which he endea- voured to explain away, so as not to affront the Doctor, whose suspicions were all alive. " And have a care, Sir," said he, just as I came in ; " the Old Lion will not bear to be tickled." The other was pale with rage, the Lady ' wept at the confusion she had caused, and I could only say, with Lady Macbeth, — te You 've displaced the mirth, broke the good meeting With most admired disorder." Such accidents, however, occurred too often, and I was forced to take advantage of my lost lawsuit, and plead inability of purse to remain longer in London or its vi- cinage. I had been crossed in my intentions of going abroad, and found it convenient, for every reason of health, peace, and pecuniary circumstances, to retire to Bath, where I knew Mr. Johnson would not follow me, and where I could for that reason command some little por- tion of time for my own use ; a thing impossible while I remained at Streatham or at London, as my hours, car- riage, and servants had long been at his command, who would not rise in the morning till twelve o'clock perhaps, and oblige me to make breakfast for him till the bell rang for dinner, though much displeased if the toilet was neg- lected, and though much of the time we passed together was spent in blaming or deriding, very justly, my neglect of economy, and waste of that money which might make many families happy. 1 The lady's name was Streatfield, as Mr. Seward told me. She was very handsome, and a good scholar ; for she understood Greek. She was piqued at Mr. Seward's paying more attention to Dr. Johnson than to her ; and on coming in, whispered, " how his bark sat on his stomach ; " alluding to the roughness which she supposed was in Dr. Johnson's conversation. — Malone MS. piozzr. Q5 The original reason of our connection, his particularly disordered health and spirits, had been long at an end, and he had no other ailments than old age and general infirmity, which every professor of medicine was ardently zealous and generally attentive to palliate, and to con- tribute all in their power for the prolongation of a life so valuable. 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 years, made me go on so long with Mr. Johnson ; but the perpetual confinement I will own to have been ter- rifying in the first years of our friendship, and irksome in the last ; nor could I pretend to support it without help, when my coadjutor was no more. To the assistance we gave him, the shelter our house afforded to his uneasy fancies, and to the pains we took to sooth or repress them, the world perhaps is indebted for the three political pamphlets, the new edition and correction of his Dictionary, and for the Poets' Lives, which he would scarce have lived, I think, and kept his faculties entire, to have written, had not incessant care been exerted at the time of his first coming to be our constant guest in the country ; and several times after that, when he found himself particularly oppressed with diseases incident to the most vivid and fervent imagina- tions. I shall for ever consider it as the greatest honour which could be conferred on any one, to have been the confidential friend of Dr. Johnson's health ; and to have in some measure, with Mr. Thrale's assistance, saved from distress at least, if not from worse, a mind great beyond the comprehension of common mortals, and good beyond all hope of imitation from perishable beings. 145. Character of Johnson. When Mr. Thrale built the new library at Streatham, and hung up over the books the portraits of his favourite friends, that of Dr. Johnson was last finished, and closed the number. It was almost impossible not to make verses on such an accidental combination of circumstances, so I 96 JOHNSONIANA, made the following ones : but, as a character written in verse will, for the most part, be found imperfect as a character, I have therefore written a prose one, with which I mean, not to complete, but to conclude these Anecdotes of the best and wisest man that ever came within the reach of my personal acquaintance, and I think I might venture to add, that of all or any of my readers : — (l Gigantic in knowledge, in virtue, in strength, Our company closes with Johnson at length ; So the Greeks from the cavern of Polypheme pass'd, When wisest, and greatest, Ulysses came last. To his comrades contemptuous, we see him look down On their wit and their worth with a general frown. Since from Science' proud tree the rich fruit he receives, Who could shake the whole trunk while they turn'd a few leaves. His piety pure, his morality nice — Protector of virtue, and terror of vice ; In these features Religion's firm champion display'd, Shall make infidels fear for a modern crusade. While th' inflammable temper, the positive tongue, Too conscious of right for endurance of wrong, We suffer from Johnson, contented to find, That some notice we gain from so noble a mind ; And pardon our hurts, since so often we've found The balm of instruction pour'd into the wound. 'Tis thus for its virtues the chemists extol Pure rectified spirit, sublime alcohol ; From noxious putrescence, preservative pure, A cordial in health, and in sickness a cure ; But exposed to the sun, taking fire at his rays, Burns bright to the bottom, and ends in a blaze." It is usual, I know not why, when a character is given, to begin with a description of the person ; that which contained the soul of Mr. Johnson deserves to be particularly described. His stature was remarkably high, and his limbs exceedingly large : his strength was more than common, I believe, and his activity had been greater, I have heard, than such a form gave one reason to expect : his features were strongly marked, and his countenance particularly rugged ; though the original complexion had certainly been fair, a circumstance somewhat unusual : his sight was near, and otherwise imperfect ; yet his eyes, though of a light grey colour, were so wild, so piercing, and at times so fierce, that fear was, I believe, the first piozzi. 97 emotion in the hearts of all his beholders. His mind was so comprehensive, that no language but that he used could have expressed its contents ; and so ponderous was his language, that sentiments less lofty and less solid than his were, would have been encumbered, not adorned by it. Mr/ Johnson was not intentionally 5 however, a pompous converser; and though he was accused of using big words, as they are called, it was only when little ones would not express his meaning as clearly, or when perhaps the ele- vation of the thought would have been disgraced by a dress less superb. He used to say, that " the size of a man's understanding might always be justly measured by his mirth;" and his own was never contemptible. He would laugh at a stroke of genuine humour, or sudden sally of odd absurdity, as heartily and freely as I ever yet saw any man ; and though the jest was often such as few felt besides himself, yet his laugh was irresistible, and was observed immediately to produce that of the com- pany, not merely from the notion that it was proper to laugh when he did, but purely out of want of power to forbear it. He was no enemy to splendour of apparel or pomp of equipage — "Life," he would say, "is barren enough surely with all her trappings ; let us therefore be cautious how we strip her." In matters of still higher moment he once observed, when speaking on the subject of sudden innovation, — "He who plants a forest may doubtless cut down a hedge ; yet I could wish, methinks, that even he would waittill he sees his young plants grow." With regard to common occurrences, Mr. Johnson had, when I first knew him, looked on the still-shifting scenes of life till he was weary ; for as a mind slow in its own nature, or unenlivened by information, will contentedly read in the same book for twenty times perhaps, the very act of reading it being more than half the business, and every period being at every reading better understood ; while a mind more active or more skilful to comprehend its meaning is made sincerely sick at the second perusal : so a soul like his, acute to discern the truth, vigorous to embrace, and powerful to retain it, soon sees enough of the world's dull prospect, which at first, like that of the H 98 JOHNSONIANA. sea, pleases by its extent, but soon, like that, too, fatigues from its uniformity ; a calm and a storm being the only variations that the nature of either will admit. Of Mr. Johnson's erudition the world has been the judge, and we who produce each a score of his sayings, as proofs of that wit which in him was inexhaustible, re- semble travellers who, having visited Delhi or Golconda, bring home each a handful of Oriental pearl to evince the riches of the Great Mogul. May the public condescend to accept my ill-strung selection with patience at least, remembering only that they are relics of him who was great on all occasions ; and, like a cube in architecture, you beheld him on each side, and his size still appeared undi- minished. As his purse was ever open to almsgiving, so was his heart tender to those who wanted relief, and his soul sus- ceptible of gratitude, and of every kind impression ; yet though he had refined his sensibility, he had not endan- gered his quiet by encouraging in himself a solicitude about trifles, which he treated with the contempt they deserve. It was well enough known before these sheets were published, that Mr. Johnson had a roughness in his man- ner which subdued the saucy, and terrified the meek : this was, when I knew him, the prominent part of a character which few durst venture to approach so nearly ; and which was, for that reason, in many respects, grossly and frequently mistaken ; and it was perhaps peculiar to him, that the lofty consciousness of his own superiority, which animated his looks, and raised his voice in conversation, cast likewise an impenetrable veil over him when he said nothing. His talk therefore had commonly the complexion of arrogance, his silence of superciliousness. He was, however, seldom inclined to be silent when any moral or literary question was started : and it was on such occa- sions, that, like the sage in Rasselas, he spoke, and atten- tion watched his lips ; he reasoned, and conviction closed his periods : if poetry was talked of, his quotations were the readiest ; and had he not been eminent for more solid and brilliant qualities, mankind would have united to extol piozzi. 99 his extraordinary memory. His manner of repeating de- serves to be described, though, at the same time, it defeats all power of description ; but whoever once heard him repeat an ode of Horace, would be long before they could endure to hear it repeated by another. His equity in giving the character of living acquaint- ance ought not undoubtedly to be omitted in his own, whence partiality and prejudice were totally excluded, and truth alone presided in his tongue : a steadiness of conduct the more to be commended, as no man had stronger likings or aversions. His veracity was, indeed, from the most trivial to the most solemn occasions, strict, even to seve- rity ; he scorned to embellish a story with fictitious cir- cumstances, which, he used to say, took off from its real value. " A story," says Johnson, " should be a specimen of life and manners ; but if the surrounding circumstances are false, as it is no more a representation of reality, it is no longer worthy our attention." For the rest, — that beneficence which, during his life, increased the comforts of so many, may after his death be perhaps ungratefully forgotten ; but that piety which dic- tated the serious papers in the Rambler, will be for ever remembered ; — for ever, I think, revered. That ample repository of religious truth, moral wisdom, and accurate criticism, breathes indeed the genuine emanations of its great author's mind, expressed too in a style so natural to him, and so much like his common mode of conversing, that I was myself but little astonished when he told me, that he had scarcely read over one of those inimitable essays before they went to the press. I will add one or two peculiarities more, before I lay down my pen. Though at an immeasurable distance from content in the contemplation of his own uncouth form and figure, he did not like another man much the less for being a coxcomb. I mentioned two friends who were par- ticularly fond of looking at themselves in a glass : " They do not surprise me at all by so doing," said Johnson : " they see, reflected in that glass, men who have risen from almost the lowest situations in life ; one to enormous riches, the other to every thing this world can give — h 2 100 JOHNSONIANA. rank, fame, and fortune. They see, likewise, men who have merited their advancement by the exertion and im- provement of those talents which God had given them ; and I see not why they should avoid the mirror." The other singularity I promised to record is this : that though a man of obscure birth himself, his partiality to people of family was visible on every occasion ; his zeal for subordination warm even to bigotry ; his hatred to innovation, and reverence for the old feudal times, apparent, whenever any possible manner of showing them occurred. I have spoken of his piety, his charity, and his truth, the enlargement of his heart, and the delicacy of his senti- ments ; and when I search for shadow to my portrait, none can I find but what was formed by pride, differently modified as different occasions showed it; yet never was pride so purified as Johnson's, at once from meanness and from vanity. The mind of this man was indeed expanded beyond the common limits of human nature, and stored with such variety of knowledge, that I used to think it resembled a royal pleasure-ground, where every plant, of every name and nation, flourished in the full perfection of their powers ; and where, though lofty woods and falling cataracts first caught the eye, and fixed the earliest atten- tion of beholders, yet neither the trim parterre nor the pleasing shrubbery, nor even the antiquated evergreens, were denied a place in some fit corner of the happy valley. [ The folloiving Anecdotes, Opinions, and Reflections are from the Collection of Dr. Johnson's Letters, pub- lished by Mrs. Piozzi, in 1788.] 146. Domestic Tragedies. What is nearest us touches us most. The passions rise higher at domestic than at imperial tragedies. 147. Calamities. When any calamity is suffered, the first thing to be remembered is, how much has been escaped. as his weakness might bring on paralytic complaints that might affect his mental powers. The Doctor, Mr. Windham said, heard him patiently; but when he had heard all, he desired to be troubled no more. He then took a most affectionate leave of Mr. Windham, who reported to us the issue of the conversation, for only Mr. Desmoulins was with them in the chamber. I did not see the Doctor that day, being fearful of disturbing him, and never con- versed with him again. I came away about half-past eleven with Mr. Windham. Monday, Dec. 13. — Went to Bolt Court at eleven o'clock in the morning ; met a young lady coming down stairs from the Doctor, whom, upon inquiry, I found to be Miss Morris (a sister to Miss Morris, formerly on the stage). Mrs. Desmoulins told me that she had seen the Doctor ; that by her desire he had been told she came to ask his blessing, and that he said, " God bless you I" I then went up into his chamber, and found him lying very composed in a kind of doze : he spoke to nobody. Sir John Hawkins, Mr. Langton, Mrs. Gardiner, Rev. Mr. Strahan and Mrs. Strahan, Doctors Brocklesby and Butter, Mr. Steevens, and Mr. Nichols the printer, came ; but no one chose to disturb him by speaking to him, and he seemed to take no notice of any person. While Mrs. Gardiner and I were there, before the rest came, he took a little warm milk in a cup, when he said something upon its not being properly given into his hand : he breathed very regular, though short, and appeared to be mostly in a calm sleep or dozing. I left him in this state, and never more saw him alive. In the evening I 17^ JOHNSONIANA. supped with Mrs. Hoole and my son at Mr. Braithwaite's, and at night my servant brought me word that my dearest friend died that evening about seven o'clock : and next morning I went to the house, where I met Mr. Seward ; we went together into the chamber, and there saw the most awful sight of Dr. Johnson laid out in his bed without life ! os£, No. 364., where this anecdote is told in the vague manner and STEEVENS. 175 Or, to render such poetry subservient to my own im- mediate use, — " I therefore pray thee, Renny dear, That thou wilt give to me, With cream and sugar soften'd well, Another dish of tea. " Nor fear that I, my gentle maid, Shall long detain the cup, When once unto the bottom I Have drunk the liquor up. " Yet hear, alas ! this mournful truth, Nor hear it with a frown; — Thou canst not make the tea so fast As I can gulp it down." And thus he proceeded 'through several more stanzas, till the reverend critic cried out for quarter. Such ridicule, however, was unmerited. 311. Night Composition, " Night," Mr. Tyers has told us, " was Johnson's time for composition." But this assertion, if meant for a general one, can be refuted by living evidence. Almost the whole Preface to Shakspeare, and no inconsiderable part of the " Lives of the Poets," were composed by day- light, and in a room where a friend (*) was employed by him in other investigations. His studies were only continued through the night, when the day had been preoccupied, or proved too short for his undertakings. Respecting the fertility of his genius, the resources of his learning, and the accuracy of his judgment, the darkness and the light were both alike. 312. Bolinghroke and Mallet. When in his latter years he was reminded of his on the imperfect authority of Mr. Cradock. To have deliberately composed and circulated a parody on his friend's poem would have been a very different thing from a sportive improvisation over the tea-table. — C] (1) [Mr. Steevens himself.] 176 JOHNSONIANA. forcible sarcasm against Bolingbroke and Mallet ( ! ), the Doctor exclaimed, " Did I really say so?" "Yes, Sir." He replied, " I am heartily glad of it." 313. Capel "You knew Mr. Capel ( 2 ), Dr. Johnson?" "Yes, Sir ; I have seen him at Garrick's." " And what think you of his abilities?" " They are just sufficient, Sir, to enable him to select the black hairs from the white ones, for the use of the periwig makers. Were he and I to count the grains in a bushel of wheat for a wager, he would certainly prove the winner." 314. Collins and Steevens. — Mrs, Johnson's Death. When one Collins, a sleep-compelling divine of Hert- fordshire, with the assistance of counsellor Hardinge, published a heavy half-crown pamphlet against Mr. Steevens, Garrick asked the Doctor, what he thought of this attack on his coadjutor. " 1 regard Collins's per- formance," replied Johnson, " as a great gun without pow- der or shot." When the same Collins afterwards appeared as editor of CapePs posthumous notes on Shakspeare, with a preface of his own, containing the following words, — " A sudden and most severe stroke of affliction has left my mind too much distracted to be capable of engaging in such a task (that of a further attack on Mr. Steevens), though I am prompted to it by inclination as well as duty," — the Doctor asked to what misfortune the foregoing words referred. Being told that the critic had lost his wife, Johnson added, " I believe that the loss of teeth may deprave the voice of a singer, and that lameness will impede the motions of a dancing master, but I have not yet been taught to regard the death of a wife as the grave of literary exertions. When my dear Mrs. Johnson ex- pired, I sought relief in my studies, and strove to lose the recollection of her in the toils of literature. Perhaps, however, I wrong the feelings of this poor fellow. His (1) [See No. 576.] (2) The annotator of Shakspeare. THE reside: CATHERINE CL1VE. TWICKENHAM STEEVENS. 177 wife might have held the pen in his name. Hinc illce lach- rymce. Nay, I think J observe, throughout his two pieces, a woman's irritability, with a woman's impotence of re- venge." Yet such were Johnson's tender remembrances of his own wife, that after her death, though he had a whole house at command, he would study nowhere but in a garret. Being asked the reason why he chose a situation so incommodious, he answered, " Because in that room only I never saw Mrs. Johnson." 315. Frequenting the Theatre. " Though you brought a tragedy, Sir, to Drury Lane, and at one time were so intimate with Garrick, you never appeared to have much theatrical acquaintance." " Sir, while I had, in common with other dramatic authors, the liberty of the scenes, without considering my admission behind them as a favour, I was frequently at the theatre. At that period all the wenches knew me, and dropped me a curtsy, as they passed on to the stage.(') But since poor Goldsmith's last comedy, I scarce recollect having seen the inside of a playhouse. To speak the truth, there is small encouragement there for a man whose sight and hearing are become so imperfect as mine. I may add, that, Garrick and Henderson excepted, I never met with a performer who had studied his art, or could give an in- telligible reason for what he did." ( 2 ) 316. Thrak's Table. " Mrs. Thrale," Mr. Tyers reports, " knew how to spread a table with the utmost plenty and elegance ; " but all who are acquainted with this lady's domestic history (1) Johnson used at one time to go occasionally to the green-room of Drury- lane Theatre, where he was much regarded by the players, and was easy and fa- cetious with them. He had a very high opinion of Mrs. Clive's comic 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." — Langton. [She died at her house at Twickenham, in December, 1785.] (2) [This was probably before his acquaintance with Mr. Kemble and Mrs. Siddons, which took place only the year before his death. — C] N 178 JOHNSONIANA. must know, that, in the present instance, Mr. Tyers's praise of her is unluckily hestowed. Her husband su- perintended every dinner set before his guests. After his death, she confessed her total ignorance in culinary arrangements. Poor Thrale studied an art of which he loved the produce, and to which he expired a martyr. Johnson repeatedly, and with all the warmth of earnest friendship, assured him he was nimis edax rerum, and that such unlimited indulgence of his palate would preci- pitate his end. 317. Late Hours. On the night before the publication of the first edition of his Shakspeare, he .supped with some friends in the Temple, who kept him up, " nothing loth," till past five the next morning. Much pleasantry was passing on the subject of commentator ship, when, all on a sudden, the Doctor, looking at his watch, cried out, " This is sport to you, gentlemen ; but you do not consider there are at most only four hours between me and criticism/' The Doctor is known to have been, like Savage, a very late visitor ; yet, at whatever hour he returned, he never went to bed without a previous call on Mrs. Williams, the blind lady who for so many years had found protection under his roof. Coming home one morning between four and five, he said to her, " Take notice, Madam, that for once I am here before others are asleep. As I turned into the court, I ran against a knot of bricklayers." " You forget, my dear Sir," replied she, " that these people have all been a-bed, and are now preparing for their day's work." " Is it so, then, Madam ? I confess that circumstance had escaped me." 318. " Time to go to Bed." Once, and but once, he is known to have had too much wine ; a circumstance which he himself discovered, on finding one of his sesquipedalian words hang fire. He then started up, and gravely observed, " I think it time we should go to bed." STEEVENS. 179 319. Doctoring one's-self. If " a little learning is a dangerous thing" on any- speculative subject, it is eminently more so in the prac- tical science of physic. Johnson was too frequently his own doctor. In October, 1784, just before he came to London, he had taken an unusual dose of squills, but without effect. He swallowed the same quantity on his arrival here, and it produced a most violent operation. He did not, as he afterwards confessed, reflect on the dif- ference between the perished and inefficacious vegetable he found in the country, and the fresh and potent one of the same kind he was sure to meet with in town. " You find me at present," says he, " suffering from a prescrip- tion of my own. When I am recovered from its conse- quences, and not till then, I shall know the true state of my natural malady." From this period, he took no medicine without the approbation of Heberden. What follows is known by all, and by all lamented — ere now, perhaps, even by the prebends of Westminster.^) 320. Johnson 9 s Funeral. Johnson asked one of his executors, a few days before his death, " Where do you intend to bury me ?" He answered, " In Westminster Abbey." " Then," con- tinued he, " if my friends think it worth while to give me a stone, let it be placed over me so as to protect my body." On the Monday after his decease he was interred in Westminster Abbey. The corpse was brought from his house in Bolt Court, to the hearse, preceded by the Rev. Mr. Butt and the Rev. Mr. Strahan, about twelve o'clock. The following was the order of the procession : — Hearse and six. The executors, viz. Sir Joshua Reynolds, Sir John Hawkins, and William Scott, LL.D. [Lord Stowell] in a coach and four. Eight coaches and four, containing the Literary Club, and others of (1) [This sarcasm against the prebendaries of Westminster, and particularly against Johnson's friend Dr. Taylor, who was one of them, will be explained presently. — C] N 2 180 JOHNSONIANA. the Doctor's friends, invited by the executors; viz. Dr. Burney, Mr. Malone, Mr. Steevens, the Rev. Mr. Strahan, Mr. Ryland, Mr. Hoole, Dr. Brocklesby, Mr. Cruikshanks, Mr. Nichols, Mr. Low, Mr. Paradise, General Paoli, Count Zenobia, Dr. Butter, Mr. Holder, Mr. Seward, Mr. Metcalf, Mr. Sastres, Mr. Des Moulins, the Rev. Mr. Butt, Dr. Horsley, Dr. Farmer, Dr. Wright ; to whom may be added, Mr. Cooke (who was introduced by Dr. Brocklesby), and the Doctor's faithful ser- vant, Francis Barber. Two coaches and four, containing the pall-bearers, viz. Mr. Burke, Mr. Windham, Sir Charles Bunbury, Sir Joseph Banks, Mr. Colman, and Mr. Langton. After these followed two mourning coaches and four, filled with gentlemen who, as volunteers, honoured themselves by attending this funeral. These were the Rev. Mr. Hoole, the Rev. Mr. East, Mr. Henderson, Mr. Mickle, Mr. Sharp, Mr. C. Burney, and Mr.|G. Nicol. Thirteen gentlemen's carriages closed the procession, which reached the Abbey a little before one. The corpse was met at the west door by the prebendaries in residence, to the number of six, in their surplices and doctor's hoods ; and the officers of the church, and attendants on the funeral, were then mar- shalled in the following order: — Two vergers. The Rev. Mr. Strahan. The Rev. Mr. Butt. The Body. Sir Joshua Reynolds, as chief mourner and executor. Sir John Hawkins and Dr. Scott, as executors. The rest two and two. The body then proceeded to the south cross, and, in view of the three executors, was deposited by the side of Mr. Garrick, with the feet opposite to the monument of Shakspeare. The Rev. Dr. Taylor performed the burial service, attended by some gentlemen of the Abbey ; but it must be regretted by all who continue to reverence the hier- archy, that the cathedral service was withheld from its invariable friend ; and the omission was truly offensive to the audience at large. How this omission happened, we are unable to account. Perhaps the executors should have asked for it ; but at all events it should have been performed. That the fees for opening the ground were paid, was a matter of in- dispensable necessity ; and there can be no doubt, from the liberality of the present dean and chapter, but they will be returned, as was offered in the case of Dryden, STEEVENS. 181 and was done in that of St. Evremond, who " died," says Atterbury, "renouncing the Christian religion ; yet the church of Westminster thought fit, in honour to his memory, to give his body room in the Abbey, and allow him to be buried there gratis, so far as the chapter were concerned, though he left 800/. sterling behind him, which is thought every way an unaccountable piece of manage- ment." How striking the contrast between St. Evremond and Johnson ! (*) (1) [ " It must be told, that a dissatisfaction was expressed in the public papers that he was not buried with all possible funeral rites and honours. In all pro- cessions and solemnities something will be forgotten or omitted. Here no dis- respect was intended. The executors did not think themselvesjustified in doing more than they did; for only a little cathedral service, accompanied with lights and music, would have raised the price of interment. In this matter fees ran high ; they could not be excused ; and the expenses were to be paid from the pro- perty of the deceased. His funeral expenses amounted to more than two hun- dred pounds. Future monumental charges may be defrayed by the generosity of subscription." — Gentleman's Magazine, 1785, p. 911 ., probably by Mr.Tyers. — It is supposed that the fees were not returned, and it is to be added, that all Dr. Johnson's friends, but especially Mr. Malone and Mr. Steevens, were indig- nant at the mean and selfish spirit which the dean and chapter exhibited on this occasion ; but they were especially so against Dr. Taylor, not only for not having prevailed on his colleagues to show more respect to his old friend, but for the un- feeling manner in which he himself performed the burial service. — C] N 3 182 Part VL ANECDOTES, BY MISS REYNOLDS. ( T ) 321. " Clarissa Harlowe" The first time I was in company with Dr. Johnson which was at Miss Cotterell's ( 2 ), I well remember the flattering notice he took of a lady present, on her saying that she was inclined to estimate the morality of every person according as they liked or disliked " Clarissa Harlowe." He was a great admirer of Richardson's works in general, but of " Clarissa" he always spoke with the highest enthusiastic praise. He used to say, that it was the first book in the world for the knowledge it displays of the human heart. 322. Richardson. Yet of the author I never heard him speak with any degree of cordiality, but rather as if impressed with some cause of resentment against him ; and this has been im- puted to something of jealousy, not to say envy, on account of Richardson's having engrossed the attentions and affectionate assiduities of several very ingenious literary ladies, whom he used to call his adopted daugh- ters, and for whom Dr. Johnson had conceived a paternal (1) [From a MS. entitled " Recollections of Dr. Johnson," communicated, in 1829, to Mr. Croker, by Mr. Palmer, grand-nephew of Sir Joshua Reynolds. Of Miss Reynolds, Dr. Johnson thought so highly, that he once said to Mrs. Piozzi, " I never knew but one mind which would bear a microscopical examin- ation, and that is dear Miss Reynolds', and hers is very near to purity itself." -C] (2) [The daughter of Rear Admiral Cotterell.] MISS REYNOLDS. 183 affection (particularly for two of them, Miss Carter and Miss Mulso, now Mrs. Chapone), previous to their ac- quaintance with Richardson ; and it was said, that he thought himself neglected by them on his account. 323. Female Friendship. Dr. Johnson set a higher value upon female friend- ship than, perhaps, most men ; which may reasonably be supposed was not a little enhanced by his acquaintance with those ladies, if it was not originally derived from them. To their society, doubtless, Richardson owed that delicacy of sentiment, that feminine excellence, as I may say, that so peculiarly distinguishes his writings from those of his own sex in general, how high soever they may soar above the other in the more dignified paths of literature, in scientific investigations, and abstruse inquiries. 324. What is Love? Dr. Johnson used to repeat, with very apparent delight, some lines of a poem, written by Miss Mulso : — e( Say, Stella, what is L ve, whose cruel power Robs virtue of content, and youth of joy? What nymph or goddess, in what fatal hour, Produced to light the mischief-making boy ? rf Some say, by Idleness and Pleasure bred, The smiling babe on beds of roses lay ; There with soft honey'd dews by Fancy fed, His infant beauties open'd on the day." ( ! ) 325. An Inn. Dr. Johnson had an uncommonly retentive memory for every thing that appeared to him worthy of observation. Whatever he met with in reading, particularly poetry, I believe he seldom required a revisal to be able to repeat verbatim. If not literally so, his deviations were generally improvements. This was the case, in some respects, in (1) [Johnson paid the first of these stanzas the great and undeserved compli- ment of quoting it in his Dictionary, under the word " Quatrain." — C] N 4 184 JOHNSONIANA. Shenstone's poem of " The Inn," which I learned from hearing Dr. Johnson repeat it ; and I was surprised, on seeing it lately among the author's works for the first time, to find it so different. One stanza he seems to have extemporised himself : — " And once again I shape my way Through rain, through shine, through thick and thin, Secure to meet, at close of day, A kind reception at an inn." (1) 3Q6. Quick Reading. He always read amazingly quick, glancing his eye from the top to the bottom of the page in an instant. If he made any pause, it was a compliment to the work ; and, after seesawing over it a few minutes, generally repeated the passage, especially if it was poetry. 327. Pope's « Essay on Man: 9 One day, on taking up Pope's " Essay on Man," a particular passage seemed more than ordinarily to engage his attention ; so much so, indeed, that, contrary to his usual custom, after he had left the book and the seat in which he was sitting, he returned to revise it, turning over the pages with anxiety to find it, and then repeated — " Passions, though selfish, if their means be fair, List under Reason, and deserve her care : Those that, imparted, court a nobler aim, Exalt their kind, and take some virtue's name." His task, probably, was the whole paragraph, but these lines only were audible. 328. Favourite Vereses. He seemed much to delight in reciting verses, particu- (1) [The lines in the corrected edition of Shenstone's works run thus : " Whoe'er has travelled life's dull round, Where'er his stages may have been, May sigh to think he still has found, The warmest welcome at an inn."] MISS REYNOLDS. 185 larly from Pope. Among the many I have had the plea- sure of hearing him recite, the conclusion of the " Dun- ciad," and his " Epistle to Jervas," seemed to claim his highest admiration : — " Led by some rule that guides, but not constrains, And finish'd more through happiness than pains," (1) he used to remark, was a union that constituted the ulti- mate degree of excellence in the fine arts. Two lines from Pope's " Universal Prayer" I have heard him quote, in very serious conversation, as his theological creed : — 11 And binding Nature fast in fate, Left free the human will." Some lines also he used to repeat in his best manner, written in memory of Bishop Boulter ( 2 ), which I believe are not much known : — " Some write their wrongs in marble : he, more just, Stoop'd down serene and wrote them in the dust ; Trod under foot, the sport of every wind, Swept from the earth, and blotted from his mind. There, secret in the grave, he bade them lie, And grieved they could not 'scape the Almighty's eye." 329. Goldsmith. Of Goldsmith's " Traveller" he used to speak in terms of the highest commendation. A lady ( 3 ) I remember, who had the pleasure of hearing Dr. Johnson read it from the beginning to the end on its first coming out, to testify her admiration of it, exclaimed, " I never more shall think Dr. Goldsmith ugly." In having thought so, however, she was by no means singular ; an instance of which I am rather inclined to mention, because it involves a remarkable one of Dr. Johnson's ready wit : for this lady, one evening being in a large party, was called upon after supper for her toast, and seeming embarrassed, she was desired to give the ugliest man she knew ; and she immediately named Dr. (1) Epistle to Jervas. — Reynolds. (2) [By Dr. Madden.— C] (3) [Miss Reynolds herself. — C] 186 JOHNSONIANA. Goldsmith, on which a lady ( ! ) on the other side of the table rose up and reached across to shake hands with her, expressing some desire of being better acquainted with her, it being the first time they had met ; on which Dr. Johnson said, " Thus the ancients, on the commence- ment of their friendships, used to sacrifice a beast betwixt them." Sir Joshua, I have often thought, never gave a more striking proof of his excellence in portrait-painting, than in giving dignity to Dr. Goldsmith's countenance, and yet preserving a strong likeness. But he drew after his mind, or rather his genius, if I may be allowed to make that distinction ; assimilating the one with his conversation, the other with his works. Dr. Goldsmith's cast of countenance, and indeed his whole figure from head to foot, impressed every one at first sight with an idea of his being a low mechanic ; particularly, I believe, a journeyman tailor. A little concurring instance of this I well remember. One day, at Sir Joshua Reynolds', in company with some gentle- men and ladies, he was relating with great indignation an insult he had just received from some gentleman he had accidentally met (I think at a coffee-house). " The fellow," he said, " took me for a tailor!" on which all the party either laughed aloud or showed they suppressed a laugh. Dr. Johnson seemed to have much more kindness for Goldsmith, than Goldsmith had for him. He always appeared to be overawed by Johnson, particularly when in company with people of any consequence, always as if impressed with some fear of disgrace ; and, indeed, well he might. I have been witness to many mortifica- tions he has suffered in Dr. Johnson's company : one day in particular, at Sir Joshua's table, a gentleman to whom he was talking his best stopped him, in the midst of his discourse, with " Hush ! hush ! Dr. Johnson is going to say something." At another time a a gentleman who was sitting between (1) Mrs. Cholmondeley. — Reynolds. MISS REYNOLDS. 1 87 Dr. Johnson and Dr. Goldsmith, and with whom he had been disputing, remarked to another, loud enough for Goldsmith to hear him, " That he had a fine time of it, between Ursa major and Ursa minor/" (*) 330. Talking one's best. Mr. Baretti used to remark, with a smile, that Dr. Johnson always talked his best to the ladies. But, in- deed, that was his general practice to all who would furnish him with a subject worthy of his discussion ; for, what was very singular in him, he would rarely, if ever, begin any subject himself, but would sit silent ( 2 ) till something was particularly addressed to him, and if that happened to lead to any scientific or moral inquiry, his benevolence, I believe, more immediately incited him to expatiate on it for the edification of the ignorant than for any other motive whatever. 331. Punishment of Criminals. — Original Sin. One day, on a lady's telling him that she had read Parnell's "Hermit" with dissatisfaction, for she could not help thinking that thieves and murderers, who were such immediate ministers from Heaven of good to man, did not deserve such punishments as our laws inflict, Dr. Johnson spoke such an eloquent oration, so deeply philo- sophical, as indeed afforded a most striking instance of the truth of Baretti's observation, but of which, to my great regret, I can give no corroborating proof, my memory furnishing me with nothing more than barely the general tendency of his arguments, which was to prove, that though it might be said that wicked men, as well as the (1) [This is a striking instance of the easy fabrication of what are called anecdotes, and of how little even the best authorities can be relied on in such matters. The real anecdote was of Doctor Major and Doctor Minor, by no means so happy as the fabrication ; and the title of Ursa Major was applied to Johnson by old Lord Auchinlech. From these two facts the pleasant fallacy quoted by Miss Reynolds was no doubt compounded. — C] (2) [ " Having taken the liberty to remark to Dr. Johnson, that he very often sat quite silent for a long time, even when in company with only a single friend, he smiled and said, ' It is very true, Sir : Tom Tyers described me the best. He once said to me, Sir, you are like a ghost : you never speak till you are spoken to.' " — Boswell,] 188 JOHNSONIANA. good, were ministers of God, because in the moral sphere the good we enjoy and the evil we suffer are administered to us by man, yet, as Infinite Goodness could not inspire or influence man to act wickedly, but on the contrary, it was his divine property to produce good out of evil, and as man was endowed with free-will to act, or to refrain from acting wickedly, with knowledge of good and evil, with conscience to admonish and to direct him to choose the one and to reject the other, he was, therefore, as cri- minal in the sight of God and of man, and as deserving punishment for his evil deeds, as if no good had resulted from them. And yet, though, to the best of my remembrance, this was the substance of Dr. Johnson's discourse in answer to the lady's observation, I am rather apprehensive that, in some respects, it may be thought inconsistent with his general assertations, that man was by nature much more inclined to evil than to good. But it would ill become me to expatiate on such a subject. Yet, what can be said to reconcile his opinion of the natural tendency of the human heart to evil with his own zealous virtuous propensions ? Nothing, perhaps, at least by me, but that this opinion, I believe, was founded upon religious principles relating to original sin ; and I well remember that, when disputing with a person on this sub- ject, who thought that nature, reason, and virtue were the constituent principles of humanity, he would say, " Nay, nay, if man is by nature prompted to act vir- tuously, all the divine precepts of the Gospel, all its denunciations, all the laws enacted by man to restrain man from evil, had been needless." 332. Sympathy. It is certain that he would scarcely allow any one to feel much for the distresses of others ; or whatever he thought they might feel, he was very apt to impute to causes that did no honour to human nature. Indeed, I thought him rather too fond of Rochefoucault maxims. MISS REYNOLDS. 189 333. Evil Propensions. The very strict watch he apparently kept over his mind seems to correspond with his thorough conviction of na- ture's evil propensions ; hut it might be as likely in con- sequence of his dread of those peculiar ones, whatever they were, which attended, or rather constituted, his mental malady, which I have observed, might probably have incited him so often to pray ; and I impute it to the same cause, that he so frequently, with great earnestness, desired his intimate acquaintance to pray for him, ap- parently on very slight occasions of corporeal disorder. 334. Morbid Melancholy. An axiom of his was, that the pains and miseries in- cident to human life far outweighed its happiness and good. But much may be said in Dr. Johnson's justification, supposing this notion should not meet with universal ap- probation, he having, it is probable, imbibed it in the early part of his life when under the pressure of adverse for- tune, and in every period of it under the still heavier pressure and more adverse influence of Nature herself; for I have often heard him lament that he inherited from his father a morbid disposition both of body and of mind — - an oppressive melancholy which robbed him of the com- mon enjoyments of life. (') Indeed, he seemed to struggle almost incessantly with some mental evil, and often, by the expression of his countenance and the motion of his lips, appeared to be offering up some ejaculation to Heaven to remove it. But in Lent, or near the approach of any great festival, he would generally retire from the company to a corner of the room, but most commonly behind a window- curtain, to pray, and with such energy, and in so loud a whisper, that every word was heard distinctly, particu- larly the Lord's Prayer and the Apostles' Creed, with which he constantly concluded his devotions. Some- (1) [This last paragraph was originally written, "terrifying melancholy, which he was sometimes apprehensive hordered on insanity. " This Miss Rey- nolds softened into the remark as it stands above. — C] 190 JOHNSONIANA. times some words would emphatically escape him in his usual tone of voice. Probably his studious attention to the secret workings of his peculiar mental infirmity, together with his expe- rience of Divine assistance co-operating with his reasoning faculties, to repel its force, may have proved in the highest degree conducive to the exaltation of his piety, and the pre-eminence of his wisdom. And I think it equally pro- bable, that all his natural defects were conducive to that end ; for being so peculiarly debarred from the enjoyment of those amusements which the eye and the ear afford, doubtless he sought more assiduously for those gratifica- tions which scientific pursuits or philosophic meditation bestow. 335. Painting and Music, These defects sufficiently account for his insensibility of the charms of music and of painting, being utterly incapable of receiving any delight from the one or the other, particularly from painting, his sight being more deficient than his hearing. Of the superficies of the fine arts, or visible objects of taste, he could have had but an imperfect idea ; but as to the invisible principles of a natural good taste, doubtless he was possessed of these in the most eminent degree, and I should have thought it a strange incon- sistency indeed in his character, had he really wanted a taste for music ; but as a proof that he did not, I think I had need only mention, that he was remarkably fond of Dr. Burney's " History of Music (*)," and that he said it showed that the author understood the philosophy of music better than any man that ever wrote on that subject. It is certain that, when in the company of connoisseurs, whose conversation has turned chiefly upon the merits of the attractive charms of painting, perhaps of pictures that (1) [Miss Reynolds will hardly convince any one that Dr. Johnson was fond of music by proving that he was fond of his friend Dr. Burney's " History of Music.'' The truth is, he held both painting and music in great contempt, be- cause his organs afibrdedjiim no adequate perception of either. — C] MISS REYNOLDS. 1Q1 were immediately under their inspection, Dr. Johnson, I have thought, used to appear as if conscious of his unbe- coming situation, or rather, I might say, suspicious that it was an unbecoming situation. But it was observable, that he rather avoided the dis- covery of it ; for when asked his opinion of the like- ness of any portrait of a friend, he has generally evaded the question, and if obliged to examine it, he has held the picture most ridiculously, quite close to his eye, just as he held his book. But he was so unwilling to expose that defect, that he was much displeased with Sir Joshua, I remember, for drawing him with his book held in that manner, which, I believe, was the cause of that picture being left unfinished." (*) 336. Religion and Morality. — Good-breeding. On every occasion that had the least tendency to de- preciate religion or morality, he totally disregarded all forms or rules of good-breeding, as utterly unworthy of the slightest consideration. But it must be confessed, that he sometimes suffered this noble principle to trans- gress its due bounds, and to extend even to those who were anywise connected with the person who had offended him. 337. Republicans. His treatment of Mr. Israel Wilkes ( 2 ) was mild in comparison of what a gentleman ( 3 ) met with from him one day at Sir Joshua Reynolds's, a barrister at law and a man of fashion, who, on discoursing with Dr. (then Mr.) Johnson on the laws and government of different nations (I remember particularly those of Venice), and happening to speak of them in terms of high approbation, " Yes, Sir," says Johnson, " all republican rascals think as you do." How the conversation ended I have forgot, it was so many years ago ; but that he made no apology (1) [This, however, or a similar picture, was finished and engraved as the frontispiece of Murphy's edition of Dr. Johnson's works. — C.J (2) [The brother of John Wilkes.] (3) Mr. Elliot. — Reynolds. 192 JOHNSONIANA. to the gentleman I am very sure, nor to any person pre- sent, for such an outrage against society. 338. Influence of Age, Of latter years he grew much more companionable, and I have heard him say, that he knew himself to be so. " In my younger days," he would say, ** it is true I was much inclined to treat mankind with asperity and con- tempt ; but I found it answered no good end. I thought it wiser and better to take the world as it goes. Besides, as I have advanced in life I have had more reason to be satisfied with it. Mankind have treated me with more kindness, and of course I have more kindness for them. 339. Influence of Fortune. In the latter part of his life, indeed, his circumstances were very different from what they were in the beginning. Before he had the pension, he literally dressed like a beg- gar ( ] ) ; and from what I have been told, he as literally lived as such ; at least as to common conveniences in his apartments, wanting even a chair to sit on, particularly in his study, where a gentleman who frequently visited him whilst writing his Idlers constantly found him at his desk, sitting on one with three legs ; and on rising from it, he remarked that Dr. Johnson never forgot its defect, but would either hold it in his hands or place it with great composure against some support, taking no notice of its imperfection to his visitor. Whether the visitor sat on a chair, or on a pile of folios ( 2 ), or how he sat, I never re- member to have been told. 340. Ceremony to Ladies. He particularly piqued himself upon his nice observance of ceremonious punctilios towards ladies. A remarkable instance of this was his never suffering any lady to walk from his house to her carriage, through Bolt Court, unattended by himself to hand her into it (at least I have (1) [See in Miss Hawkins's Anecdote?, No. 552,, how different his appearance was after the pension. — C] (2) [See No. 295.] MISS REYNOLDS. 193 reason to suppose it to be his general custom, from his constant performance of it to those with whom he was the most intimately acquainted) ; and if any obstacle prevented it from driving off, there he would stand by the door of it, and gather a mob around him ; indeed, they would begin to gather the moment he appeared handing the lady down the steps into Fleet Street. But to describe his appear- ance — his important air — that indeed cannot be de- scribed ; and his morning habiliments would excite the ut- most astonishment in my reader, that a man in his senses could think of stepping outside his door in them, or even to be seen at home. Sometimes he exhibited himself at the distance of eight or ten doors from Bolt Court, to get at the carriage, to the no small diversion of the popu- lace. 341. Johnson 9 s Dress. — Miss Cotter ell. His best dress was, in his early times, so very mean, that one afternoon as he was following some ladies up stairs, on a visit to a lady of fashion (Miss Cotterell) ( 1 ), the ser- vant, not knowing him, suddenly seized him by the shoul- der, and exclaimed, " Where are you going ?" striving at the same time to drag him back ; but a gentleman (" 2 ) who was a few steps behind prevented her from doing or saying more, and Mr. Johnson growled all the way up stairs, as well he might. He seemed much chagrined and discom- posed. Unluckily, whilst in this humour, a lady of high rank ( 3 ) happening to call upon Miss Cotterell, he was most violently offended with her for not introducing him to her (1) [His acquaintance with this lady and her sister, who married Dean Lewis, continued to the last days of his life. He says in one of his letters to Mrs. Thrale, " I know not whether I told you that my old friend Mrs. Cotterell, now no longer Miss, has called to see me. Mrs. Lewis is not well. — April 26. 1784." It is gratifying to observe how many of Johnson's earliest friends con- tinued so to the last. — C] (2) [Sir Joshua (then Mr.) Reynolds. — C] (3) Lady Fitzroy. — Miss Reynolds. — [See Boswell, vol. i. p. 228., where this story is told of the Duchess of Argyll and another lady of high rank : that other lady was no doubt the person erroneously designated by Miss Reynolds as Lady Fitzroy. She probably was Elizabeth Cosby, wife of Lord Augustus Fitz- roy, and grandmother of the present Duke of Grafton. — C] O 194" JOHMSONIANA. • ladyship, and still more so for her seeming to show more attention to her than to him. After sitting some time silent, meditating how to down Miss Cotterell, he addressed himself to Mr. Reynolds, who sat next him, and, after a few introductory words, with aloud voice said, " I wonder which of us two could get most money at his trade in one week, were we to work hard at it from morning till night." I don't remember the answer ; but I know that the lady, rising soon after, went away without knowing what trade they were of. She might probably suspect Mr. Johnson to be a poor author by his dress ; and because the trade of neither a blacksmith, a porter, or a chairman, which she probably would have taken him for in the street, was not quite so suitable to the place she saw him in. This incident he used to mention with great glee — how he had downed Miss Cotterell, though at the same time he pro- fessed a great friendship and esteem for that lady. 342. Dr. Barnard. — "Forty-jive" It is certain, for such kind of mortifications he never expressed any concern ; but on other occasions he has shown an amiable sorrow ( J ) for the offence he has given, particularly if it seemed to involve the slightest disrespect to the church or to its ministers. I shall never forget with what regret he spoke of the rude reply he made to Dr. Barnard, on his saying that men never improved after the age of forty-five. " That's not true, Sir," said Johnson. " You, who perhaps are forty-eight, mffy still improve, if you will try : I wish you would set about it ; and I am afraid," he added, " there is great room for it ; " and this was said in rather a large party of ladies and gentlemen at dinner. Soon after the ladies withdrew from the table, Dr. Johnson followed them, and sitting down by the lady of the house, he said, *' I am very sorry for having spoken so rudely to the (1) [ " He repented just as certainly, however, if he had been led to praise any person or thing by accident more than he thought it deserved ; and was on such occasions comically earnest to destroy the praise or pleasure he had uninten- tionally given." — Piozzi.] MISS REYNOLDS. 195 dean." " You very well may, Sir." " Yes," he said, " it was highly improper to speak in that style to a minister of the Gospel, and I am the more, hurt on reflecting with what mild dignity he received it." When the dean came up into the drawing-room, Dr. Johnson immediately rose from his seat, and made him sit on the sofa by him, and with such a beseeching look for pardon, and with such fond gestures — literally smooth- ing down his arms and knees — tokens of penitence, which were so graciously received by the dean as to make Dr. Johnson very happy, and not a little added to the "esteem and respect he had previously entertained for his character. The next morning the dean called on Sir Joshua Reynolds with the following verses : — e< I lately thought no man alive Could e'er improve past forty-five, And ventured to assert it. The observation was not new, But seem'd to me so just and true That none could controvert it. <( ' No, Sir,' says Johnson, 't is not so ; 'Tis your mistake, and I can show * An instance, if you doubt it. You, who perhaps are forty-eight, May still improve, 'tis not too late: I wish you 'd set about it.' " Encouraged thus to mend my faults, I turn'd his council in my thoughts Which way I could apply it ; Genius I knew was past my reach, For who can learn what none can teach ? And wit — I could not buy it. " Then come, my friends, and try your skill ; You may improve me if you will, (My books are at a distance) ; With you I'll live and learn, and then Instead of books I shall read men, So lend me your assistance. o 2 • 196 JOHNSONIANA. " Dear knight of Plympton (*), teach me how To suffer with unclouded brow And smile serene as thine, The jest uncouth and truth severe ; Like thee to turn my deafest ear, And calmly drink my wine. " Thou say'st not only skill is gain'd, But genius, too, may be attain'd, By studious invitation ; Thy temper mild, thy genius fine, I '11 study till I make them mine By constant meditation. " Thy art of pleasing teach me, Garrick, Thou who reversest odes Pindaric ( 2 ) A second time read o'er ; Oh ! could we read thee backwards too Last thirty years thou shouldst review, And charm us thirty more. " If I have thoughts and can't express 'em, Gibbon shall teach me how to dress 'em In terms select and terse ; Jones teach me modesty and Greek; Smith, how to think ; Burke, how to speak ; And Beauclerk to converse. " Let Johnson teach me how to place In fairest light each borrow'd grace ; From him I'll learn to write ; Copy his free and easy style, And from the roughness of his file Grow, like himself, polite." 343. Scepticism. Talking on the subject of scepticism, he said, " The eyes of the mind are like the eyes of the body ; they can see only at such a distance : but because we cannot see beyond this point, is there nothing beyond it?" 344. Want of Memory. Talking of the want of memory, he said, " No, Sir, it (1) [Sir Joshua Reynolds was born at Plympton in Devon.] (2) [A humorous attempt of Garrick's to read one of Cumberland's odes backwards. See Boswell, vol. iii. p. 408. — C] MISS REYNOLDS. 197 is not true : in general every person has an equal capacity for reminiscence, and for one thing as well as another, other- wise it would be like a person complaining that he could hold silver in his hand, but could not hold copper." 345. Genius, " No, Sir," he once said, " people are not born with a particular genius for particular employments or studies, for it would be like saying that a man could see a great way east, but could not west. It is good sense applied with diligence to what was at first a mere accident, and which, by great application, grew to be called, by the generality of mankind, a particular genius." 346 . Imagination . Some person advanced, that a lively imagination dis- qualified the mind from fixing steadily upon objects which required serious and minute investigation. Johnson. " It is true, Sir, a vivacious quick imagination does sometimes give a confused idea of things, and which do not fix deep, though, at the same time, he has a capacity to fix them in his memory, if he would endeavour at it. It being like a man that, when he is running, does not make observations on what he meets with, and conse- quently is not impressed by them ; but he has, neverthe- less, the power of stopping and informing himself." 347. Conscience and Shame. A gentleman was mentioning it as a remark of an acquaintance of his, " that he never knew but one per- son that was completely wicked." Johnson. " Sir, I don't know what you mean by a person completely wicked." Gentleman. " Why, any one that has en- tirely got rid of all shame." Johnson. " How is he, then, completely wicked ? He must get rid, too, of all conscience." Gentleman. " I think conscience and shame the same thing." Johnson. " I am surprised to hear you say so ; they spring from two different sources, 3 198 JOHNSONIANA. and are distinct perceptions : one respects this world, the other the next." A Lady. " I think, however, that a person who has got rid of shame is in a fair way to get rid of conscience." Johnson. " Yes, 'tis a part of the way, I grant ; but there are degrees at which men stop, some for the fear of men, some for the fear of God : shame arises from the fear of men, conscience from the fear of God." 348. Bennet Langton. Dr. Johnson seemed to delight in drawing charac- ters ; and when he did so con amove, delighted every one that heard him. Indeed, I cannot say I ever heard him draw any con odio, though he professed himself to be, or at least to love, a, good hater. But I have remarked that his dislike of any one seldom prompted him to say much more than that the fellow is a blockhead, a poor crea- ture, or some such epithet. I shall never forget the exalted character he drew of his friend Mr. Langton, nor with what energy, what fond delight, he expatiated in his praise, giving him every excellence that nature could bestow, and every perfection that humanity could acquire. ( ] ) A literary lady was present, Miss Hannah More, who perhaps inspired him with an unusual ardour to shine, which indeed he did with redoubled lustre, deserving him- self the praises he bestowed : not but I have often heard him speak in terms equally high of Mr. Langton, though more concisely expressed. 349. Mrs, Thrale. On the praises of Mrs. Thrale he used to dwell with a peculiar delight, a paternal fondness, expressive of con- scious exultation in being so intimately acquainted with her. One day, in speaking of her to Mr. Harris, author of " Hermes," and expatiating on her various perfections, — the solidity of her virtues, the brilliancy of her wit, and the strength of her understanding, &c he quoted some (1) [See Boswell, vol. viii. p. 279 C] MISS REYNOLDS. 199 lines (a stanza, I believe, but from what author I know not), with which he concluded his most eloquent eulogium, and of these I retained but the two last lines (*) : — " Virtues — of such a generous kind, Good in the last recesses of the mind." 350. Johnson's Benevolence, It will doubtless appear highly paradoxical to the gene- rality of the world to say, that few men, in his ordinary disposition, or common frame of mind, could be more in- offensive than Dr. Johnson ; yet surely those who knew his uniform benevolence, and its actuating principles — steady virtue, and true holiness — will readily agree with me, that peace and good-will towards man were the natural emanations of his heart. I shall never forgot the impression I felt in Dr. John- son's favour, the first time I was in his company, on his saying, that as he returned to his lodgings, at one or two o'clock in the morning, he often saw poor children asleep on thresholds and stalls, and that he used to put pennies into their hands to buy them a breakfast. ( 2 ) 351. Sunday. He always carried a religious treatise in his pocket on a Sunday, and he used to encourage me to relate to him the particular parts of Scripture I did not understand, and to write them down as they occurred to me in reading the Bible. 352. Johnson's Recitation. When repeating to me one day Grainger's " Ode on Solitude," I shall never forget the concordance of the sound of his voice with the grandeur of those images ; nor, indeed, the gothic dignity of his aspect, his look (1) Being so particularly engaged as not to be able to attend to them suffici- ently. — Miss Reynolds. (2) [And this at a time when he himself was living on pennies. — C] o 4 200 JOHNSON I AN A. and manner, when repeating sublime passages. But what was very remarkable, though his cadence in reading poetry- was so judiciously emphatical as to give additional force to the words uttered, yet in reading prose, particularly on common or familiar subjects, narrations, essays, letters, &c, nothing could be more injudicious than his manner, beginning every period with a pompous accent, and reading it with a whine, or with a kind of spasmodic struggle for utterance ; and this, not from any natural in- firmity, but from a strange singularity, in reading on, in one breath, as if he had made a resolution not to respire till he had closed the sentence. 353. Johnson's Gesticulations, I believe no one has described his extraordinary gestures or antics ( ! ) with his hands and feet, particularly when passing over the threshold of a door, or rather before he would venture to pass through any doorway. On entering Sir Joshua's house with poor Mrs. Williams, a blind lady who lived with him, he would quit her hand, or else whirl her about on the steps as he whirled and twisted about to per- form his gesticulations ; and as soon as he had finished, he would give a sudden spring, and make such an exten- sive stride over the threshold, as if he was trying for a wager how far he could stride, Mrs. Williams standing groping about outside the door, unless the servant took hold of her hand to conduct her in, leaving Dr. Johnson to perform at the parlour door much the same exercise over again. But it was not only at the entrance of a door that he exhibited such strange manoeuvres, but across a room or in the street with company, he has stopped on a sudden, as if he had recollected his task, and began to perform it there, gathering a mob round him; and when he had finished would hasten to his companion (who probably had walked (l) [Mr. Boswell, frequently, and Mr. Whyte, have described his gestures very strikingly, though not quite in so much detail as Miss Reynolds. Mr. Bos- well's descriptions she must have seen. — C] MISS REYNOLDS. 201 on before) with an air of great satisfaction that he had done his duty. One Sunday morning, as I was walking with him in Twickenham meadows, he began his antics both with his feet and hands, with the latter as if he was holding the reins of a horse like a jockey on full speed. But to de- scribe the strange positions of his feet is a difficult task ; sometimes he would make the back part of his heels to touch, sometimes his toes, as if he was aiming at making the form of a triangle, at least the two sides of one. Though indeed, whether these were his gestures on this particular occasion in Twickenham meadows I do not re- collect, it is so long since ; but I well remember that they were so extraordinary that men, women, and children gathered round him, laughing. At last we sat down on some logs of wood by the river side, and they nearly dis- persed ; when he pulled out of his pocket Grotius " De V^eritate Religionis" over which he seesawed at such a violent rate as to excite the curiosity of some people at a distance to come and see what was the matter with him. We drank tea that afternoon at Sir John Hawkins's, and on our return I was surprised to hear Dr. Johnson's minute criticism on Lady Hawkins's dress, with every part of which almost he found fault. It was amazing, so short-sighted as he was, how very observant he was of appearances in dress and behaviour, nay, even of the de- portment of servants while waiting at table. One day, as his man Frank was attending at Sir Joshua's Reynolds's table, he observed, with some emotion, that he had placed the salver under his arm. Nor would the conduct THEiiK ' ! \ S DAVIE CRADQCK. 215 sation turned upon the tragedy of " CEdipus." (*) This was particularly interesting to me, as I was then employed in endeavouring to make such alterations in Dryden's play, as to make it suitable to a revival at Drury Lane Theatre. Johnson did not seem to think favourably of it ; but I ventured to plead, that Sophocles wrote it expressly for the theatre, at the public cost, and that it was one of the most celebrated dramas of all antiquity. Johnson said, " CEdipus was a poor miserable man, subjected to the greatest distress, without any degree of culpability of his own." I urged, that Aristotle, as well as most of the Greek poets, were partial to this character ; that Addison considered that, as terror and pity were particularly excited, he was the properest here Johnson suddenly becoming loud, I paused, and rather apologised that it might not become me, perhaps, too strongly to contradict Dr. John- son. "Nay, Sir," replied he, hastily, "if I had not wished to have heard your arguments, 1 should not have disputed with you at all." All went on quite pleasantly afterwards. We sat late, and something being mentioned about my going to Bath, when taking leave, Johnson very graciously said, " I should have a pleasure in meet- ing you there." Either Boswell or Davies immediately whispered to me, " You 're landed," 360. Garrick. — Burke. — Goldsmith. The next time I had the pleasure of meeting him was at the Literary Club ( a ) dinner at the coffee-house in St. James's Street, to which 1 was introduced by my partial friend, Dr. Percy. Johnson that day was not in very good humour. We rather waited for dinner. Garrick came late, and apologised that he had been to the House of Lords, and Lord Camden insisted on conveying him (1) [Boswell says it turned on Aristotle's opinion of the Greek tragedy in ge- neral ; which may, however, have led to the subject of CEdipus, though he does not notice it. — C.] (2) [ Here seems to be a mistake. No stranger is ever invited to the Club* It is probable that Mr. Cradock mistook an occasional meeting at the St. James's coffee-house (such a one did really produce " Retaliation") for a meeting of the Club. Mr. Colman, in his " Random Records," makes the same mistake, and wonders at finding noticed in " Retaliation" persons who did not belong to the Club. — C] p 4 %l6 JOHNSONIANA, in his carriage : Johnson said nothing, but he looked a volume. The party was numerous. I sat next Mr. Burke at dinner. There was a beef-steak pie placed just before us ; and I remarked to Mr. Burke that something smelt very disagreeable, and looked to see if there was not a dog under the table. Burke, with great good humour, said, " I believe, Sir, I can tell you what is the cause ; it is some of my country butter in the crust that smells so disagreeably." Dr. Johnson just at that time, sitting op- posite, desired one of us to send him some of the beef- steak pie. We sent but little, which he soon despatched, and then returned his plate for more. Johnson particu- larly disliked that any notice should be taken of what he eat, but Burke ventured to say he was glad to find that Dr. Johnson was anywise able to relish the beef-steak pie. Johnson, not perceiving what he alluded to, hastily ex- claimed, " Sir, there is a time of life when a man requires the repairs of the table !" The company rather talked for victory than social intercourse. I think it was in conse- quence of what passed that evening, that Dr. Goldsmith wrote his " Retaliation." Mr. Richard Burke (') was present, talked most, and seemed to be the most free and easy of any of the company. I had never met him before. Burke seemed desirous of bringing his relative forward. In Mr. Chalmers's account of Goldsmith, different sorts of liquor are offered as appropriate to each guest. To the two Burkes ale from Wicklow, and wine from Ferney to me : my name is in italics, as supposing I am a wine- bibber ; but the author's allusion to the wines of Ferney was meant for me, I rather think, from my having taken a plan of a tragedy from Voltaire. 361. Mrs. Percy. — Easton Mauduit. Mrs. Percy, afterwards nurse to the Duke of Kent, at Buckingham House, told me that Johnson once stayed near a month with them at their dull parsonage at Easton Mauduit ( 2 ) ; that Dr. Percy looked out all sorts of books (1) [Mr. Richard Burke, collector, of Grenada, the brother, not the son, of Mr. Burke. — C] (2) [In the summer of 1764, Johnson paid a visit to Dr. Percy at his vicarage CRADOCK. 217 to be ready for his amusement after breakfast, and that Johnson was so attentive and polite to her, that, when Dr. Percy mentioned the literature prepared in the study, he said, " No, Sir, I shall first wait upon Mrs. Percy to feed the ducks." But those halcyon days were about to change, — not as to Mrs. Percy, for to the last she re- mained a favourite with him. 362. Dr. Percy's Charity Sermon. — " Tlie Idler" 1 happened to be in London once when Dr. Percy returned from Northumberland, and found that he was expected to preach a charity sermon almost immediately. This had escaped his memory ; and he said, that " though much fatigued, he had been obliged to sit up very late to furnish out something from former discourses ; but, sud- denly recollecting that Johnson's fourth ' Idler* (') was exactly suited to his purpose, he had freely engrafted the greatest part of it." He preached, and his discourse was much admired ; but being requested to print it, he most strenuously opposed the honour intended him, till he was assured by the governors, that it was absolutely necessary, as the annual contributions greatly depended on the ac- count that was given in the appendix. In this dilemma, he earnestly requested that I would call upon Dr. Johnson, and state particulars. I assented, and endeavoured to introduce the subject with all due solemnity 5 but Johnson was highly diverted with his recital, and, laughing, said, " Pray, Sir, give my kind respects to Dr. Percy, and tell him, I desire he will do whatever he pleases in regard to my ' Idler ;' it is entirely at his service." 363. Gibbon. But these days of friendly communication were, from various causes, speedily to pass away, and worse than in- difference to succeed : for, one morning Dr. Percy said to Mr. Cradock, " I have not seen Dr. Johnson for a long in Eastern Mauduit, and spent parts of the months of June, July, and August with him.] (1) [On Charities and Hospitals.] 218 JOHNSONIANA. time. I believe I must just call upon him, and greatly wish that you would accompany me. I intend," said he, " to teaze him a little about Gibbon's pamphlet." " I hope not, Dr. Percy," was my reply. " Indeed I shall, for I have a great pleasure in combating his narrow pre- judices." We went together ; and Dr. Percy opened with some anecdotes from Northumberland House ; mentioned some rare books that were in the library ; and then threw out that the town rang with applause of Gibbon's " Reply to Davis ;" that the latter " had written before he had read," and that the two " confederate doctors," as Mr. Gibbon termed them, "had fallen into some strange errors." Johnson said, he knew nothing of Davis's pamphlet, nor would he give him any answer as to Gibbon ; but if the " confederate doctors," as they were termed, had really made such mistakes as he alluded to, they were block- heads. Dr. Percy talked on in the most careless style possible, but in a very lofty tone ; and Johnson appeared to be excessively angry. I only wished to get released : for if Dr. Percy had proceeded to inform him, that he had lately introduced Mr. Hume to dine at the King's chaplain's table, there must have been an explosion. 364. " The Hermit of Warkworih." With all my partiality for Johnson, I freely declare, that I think Dr. Percy received very great cause to take real offence at one, who, by a ludicrous parody on a stanza in the " Hermit of Wark worth," had rendered him contemptible. It was urged, that Johnson only meant to attack the metre; but he certainly turned the whole poem into ridicule : — " I put my hat upon my head, And walk'd into the Strand, And there I met another man With his hat in his hand." Mr. Garrick, in a letter to me, soon afterwards asked me, "Whether I had seen Johnson's criticism on the * Hermit?' it is already," said he, "over half the town." Almost the last time that I ever saw Johnson, he said to me, CRADOCK. 219 "Notwithstanding all the pains that Dr. Farmer and I took to serve Dr. Percy, in regard to his 'Ancient Ballads,' he has left town for Ireland ( ! ), without taking leave of either of us." 365. Roxana and Statira. Mr. Nichols, in his entertaining " Literary Anecdotes," has justly remarked, that Johnson was not always that surly companion he was supposed to be, and gives as an instance rather an impertinent joke of mine about Alexander and his two queens, and Johnson's good-humoured reply, that "in his family it had never been ascertained which was Roxana and which was Statira ( 2 ) ; " but I then had got experience, and pretty well knew when I might safely venture into the lion's mouth. 366. " Baiting the Bear." Admiral Walsingham, who sometimes resided at Wind- sor, and sometimes in Portugal Street, frequently boasted that he was the only man to bring together miscellaneous parties, and make them all agreeable ; and, indeed, there never before was so strange an assortment as I have occa- sionally met there. At one of his dinners, were the Duke of Cumberland ( 3 ), Dr. Johnson, Mr. Nairn, the optician, and Mr. Leoni, the singer : at another, Dr. Johnson, &c, and a young dashing officer, who determined, he whis- pered, to attack the old bear that we seemed all to stand in awe . of. There was a good dinner, and during that important time Johnson was deaf to all impertinence. However, after the wine had passed rather freely, the young gentleman was resolved to bait him, and venture out a little further. " Now, Dr. Johnson, do not look so glum, but be a little gay and lively, like others : what would you give, old gentleman, to be as young and sprightly as I am?" "Why, Sir," said he, "I think 1 would almost be content to be as foolish." (1) [See No. 310. Dr. Percy was made Bishop of Dromore in 1782. — C. j (2) [Mrs. Williams and Mrs. Desmoulins. See No. 566-1 (3) [It is possible Dr. Johnson may have been acquainted with the Hon. Robert Boyle, who took the name of Walsingham ; but it is hardly possible that Dr. Johnson should have met the Duke of Cumberland at dinner without Mr. Boswell's having mentioned it. — C] 220 JOHNSONIANA, 367. Society, — Late Hours, — Clubs. Johnson, it is well known, professed to recruit his ac- quaintance with younger persons, and, in his latter days, I, with a few others, were more frequently honoured by his notice. At times he was very gloomy, and would exclaim, " Stay with me, for it is a comfort to me " — a comfort that any feeling mind would wish to administer to a man so kind, though at times so boisterous, when he seized your hand, and repeated, " Ay, Sir, but to die and go we know not where," &c. — here his morbid melancholy prevailed, and Garrick never spoke so im- pressively to the heart. Yet, to see him in the evening (though he took nothing stronger than lemonade), a stranger would have concluded that our morning account was a fabrication. No hour was too late to keep him from the tyranny of his own gloomy thoughts. A gentleman venturing to say to Johnson, " Sir, I wonder sometimes that you condescend so far as to attend a city club." " Sir, the great chair of a full and pleasant club is, per- haps, the throne of human felicity." 368. Lives of the Poets. I had not the honour to be at all intimate with Johnson till about the time he began to publish his Lives of the Poets ; and how he got through that arduous labour is, in some measure, still a mystery to me : he must have been greatly assisted by booksellers. (*) I had some time be- fore lent him " Euripides" with Milton's manuscript notes: this, though he did not minutely examine (see Joddrel's "Euripides"), yet he very handsomely returned it, and mentioned it in his Life of Milton. ( 2 ) In the course of conversation one day I dropped out to him, that Lord Harborough ( 3 ) (then the Rev.) was in possession of a (1) [The original MS. is still extant, and it appears that he had very little as- sistance, and none at all from the booksellers. — C.] (2) [" His ' Euripides' is, by Mr. Cradock's kindness, now in my hands : the margin is sometimes noted, but I have found nothing remarkable." — Life of Milton. — C] (3) [The Rev. Robert Sherrard, who became on the death of his elder brother, in 1770, fourth Earl of Harborough, — C] CRADOCK. 221 very valuable collection of manuscript poems, and that amongst them there were two or three in the handwriting of King James I. ; that they were bound up handsomely in folio, and were entitled "Sackville's Poems." These he solicited me to borrow for him, and Lord Harborough very kindly intrusted them to me for his perusal. 369. Harris's Hermes, — Tristram Shandy. Harris's Hermes was mentioned. I said, " I think the book is too abstruse ; it is heavy." "It is ; but a work of that kind must be heavy." " A rather dull man of my acquaintance asked me," said I, "to lend him some book to entertain him, and I offered him Harris's Hermes, and as I expected, from the title, he took it for a novel : when he returned it, I asked him how he liked it, and what he thought of it ? * Why, to speak the truth,' says he, ' I was not much diverted ; I think all these imitations of Tristram Shandy fall far short of the original!'" This had its effect, and almost produced from Johnson a rhinoceros laugh. 370. A rude Speech* One of Dr. Johnson's rudest speeches was to a pomp- ous gentleman coming out of Lichfield cathedral, who said, " Dr. Johnson, we have had a most excellent dis- course to-day !" " That may be," said Johnson ; " but, it is impossible that you should know it." Of his kindness to me during the last years of his most valuable life, I could enumerate many instances. One slight circumstance, if any were wanting, would give an excellent proof of the goodness of his heart, and that to a person whom he found in distress. In such a case he was the very last man that would have given even the least momentary uneasiness to any one, had he been aware of it. The last time I saw him was just before I went to France. He said, with a deep sigh, " I wish I was going with you." He had just then been disappointed of going to Italy. Of all men I ever knew, Dr. Johnson was the most instructive. £2% JOHNSONIANA, Part IX. ANECDOTES, BY MR. WICKINS OF LICHFIELD. (') 371. Deception, Walking one day with him in my garden at Lichfield, we entered a small meandering shrubbery, whose " vista not lengthened to the sight," gave promise of a larger extent. I observed, that he might perhaps conceive that he was entering an extensive labyrinth, but that it would prove a deception, though I hoped not an unpardonable one. " Sir," said he, " don't tell me of deception; a lie, Sir, is a lie, whether it be a lie to the eye or a lie to the ear." 372. Urns. Passing on we came to an urn which I had erected to the memory of a deceased friend. I asked him how he liked that urn — it was of the true Tuscan order. " Sir," said he, "I hate urns ; they are nothing, they mean no- thing, they convey no ideas but ideas of horror — would they were beaten to pieces to pave our streets ! " 373. Cold Baths. We then came to a cold bath. I expatiated upon its salubrity. " Sir," said he, " how do you do ?" "Very (1) [Dr. Harwood informs me that Mr. Wickins was a respectable draper in Lichfield. It is very true that Dr. Johnson was accustomed to call on him dur- ing his visits to his native town. The garden attached to his house was orna- mented in the manner he describes, and no doubt was ever entertained of the exactness of his anecdotes. — C] WICKINS. & v £6 well, I thank you, Doctor." " Then, Sir, let well enough alone, and be content. I hate immersion." Truly, as Fal staff says, the Doctor " would have a sort of alacrity at sinking-." (*) 374. The Venus de 9 Medicis. Upon the margin stood the Venus de' Medicis — " So stands the statue that enchants the world.'* " Throw her," said he, " into the pond to hide her naked- ness, and to cool her lasciviousness." 375. Arcadia. He then, with some difficulty, squeezed himself into a root-house, when his eye caught the following lines from Parnell : — " Go search among your idle dreams, Your busy, or your vain extremes, And find a life of equal bliss, Or own the next began in this." The Doctor, however, not possessing any sylvan ideas, seemed not to admit that heaven could be an Arcadia. 376. Doing Good. I then observed him with Herculean strength tugging at a nail which he was endeavouring to extract from the bark of a plum-tree ; and having accomplished it, he ex- claimed, " There, Sir, I have done some good to-day ; the tree might have festered. I make a rule, Sir, to do some good every day of my life." 377* Sterne 9 s Sermons, Returning through the house, he stepped into a small study or book -room. The first book he laid his hands upon was Harwood's ( 2 ) " Liberal Translation of the (1) [A mistake — he was a good swimmer. See Boswell, vol. vi. p. 218. -C] (2) [The reader must hear in mind that this Doctor Edward Harwood, the same mentioned by Mr. Cradock, and who has been dead many years, is not to be confounded with Dr. Thomas Harwood, of Lichfield, who is now alive, and whose information is quoted at the beginning of this article. — C.} 224 JOHNSONIANA. New Testament." The passage which first caught his eye was from that sublime apostrophe in St. John, upon the raising of Lazarus, "Jesus wept;" which Harwood had conceitedly rendered " and Jesus, the Saviour of the world, burst into a flood of tears." He contemptuously threw the book aside, exclaiming, " Puppy ! " I then showed him Sterne's Sermons. " Sir," said he, " do you ever read any others?" "Yes, Doctor; I read Sherlock, Tillotson, Beveridge, and others." " Ay, Sir, there you drink the cup of salvation to the bottom ; here you have merely the froth from the surface." 378. Shakspeare's Mulberry Vase, — Garrick. Within this room stood the Shakspearean mulberry vase, a pedestal given by me to Mr. Garrick, and which was recently sold, with Mr. Garrick's gems, at Mrs. Garrick's sale at Hampton. The Doctor read the in- scription : — " Sacred to Shakspeare, And in honour of David Garrick, Esq. The Ornament — the Reformer Of the British Stage." (1 ) " Ay, Sir ; Davy, Davy loves flattery ; but here, in- deed, you have flattered him as he deserves, paying a just tribute to his merit." (!) [This vase is now in the rich collection of Thomas Hill, Esq., of the Adelphi. New Monthly Mag., v. xliv.] 225 Part X. ANECDOTES, BY MR. GREEN, OF LICHFIELD. 379. Dr. Kippis. — Royal Society. Dr. Brocklesby, a few days before the death of Dr. Johnson, found on the table Dr. Kippis' s account of the Disputes of the Royal Society. Dr. Johnson inquired of his physician if he had read it, who answered in the ne- gative. " You have sustained no loss, Sir. It is poor stuff, indeed, a sad unscholar-like performance. I could not have believed that that man would have written so ill." 380. Dr. Warren. Being desired to call in Dr. Warren, he said, they might call in any body they pleased ; and Warren was called. At his going away, " You have come in," said Dr. Johnson, " at the eleventh hour ; but you shall be paid the same with your fellow-labourers. Francis, put into Dr. Warren's coach a copy of the * English Poets.' " 381. Fear of Death. Some years before, some person in a company at Salis- bury, of which Dr. Johnson was one, vouched for the company, that there was nobody in it afraid of death — " Speak for yourself, Sir," said Johnson, " for indeed I am." "I did not say of dying" replied the other ; "but of death, meaning its consequences." " And so I mean," rejoined the Doctor ; " I am very seriously afraid of the consequences." Q %26 JOHNSONIANA, Part XL ANECDOTES, BY THE REV. MR. PARKER.( T ) 382. Stow-Hitt. Dr. Johnson's friendship for Mrs. Elizabeth Aston commenced at the palace in Lichfield, the residence of Mr. Walmesley : with Mrs. Gastrel he became acquainted in London, at the house of her brother-in-law, Mr. Hervey. During the Doctor's annual visits to his daughter-in-law, Lucy Porter, he spent much of his time at Stow-Hill, where Mrs. Gastrel and Mrs. Elizabeth Aston resided. They were the daughters of Sir Thomas Aston, of Aston Hall in Cheshire, of whom it is said, that being applied to for some account of his family, to illustrate the his- tory of Cheshire, he replied, that * * the title and estate had descended from father to son for thirty generations, and that he believed they were neither much richer nor much poorer than they were at first." 383. Dr. Hunter. — Miss Seward. He used to say of Dr. Hunter, master of the free grammar school, Lichfield, that he never taught a boy in his life — he whipped and they learned. Hunter was a pompous man, and never entered the school without his gown and cassock, and his wig full dressed. He had a remarkably stern look, and Dr. Johnson said, he could tremble at the sight of Miss Seward, she was so like her grandfather. (1) The following anecdotes are told by Mr. Parker, from the relation of Mrs. Aston and her sister. ' I .■■■•• i ins on in/1736. PARKER. 227 38 k Lives of the Poets. Mrs. Gastrel was on a visit at Mr. Hervey's, in Lon- don, at the time that Johnson was writing the Rambler : the printer's boy would often come after him to their house, and wait while he wrote off a paper for the press in a room full of company. A great portion of the Lives of the Poets was written at Stow- Hi 11 : he had a table by one of the windows, which was frequently surrounded by five or six ladies engaged in work or conversation. Mrs. Gastrel had a very valuable edition of Bailey's Dictionary, to which she often referred. She told him that Miss Seward said that he had made poetry of no value by his criticism. " Why, my dear lady," replied he, " if silver is dirty, it is not the less valuable for a good scouring." 385. Climbing. A large party had one day been invited to meet the Doctor at Stow-Hill : the dinner waited far beyond the usual hour, and the company were about to sit down, when Johnson appeared at the great gate ; he stood for some time in deep contemplation, and at length began to climb it, and, having succeeded in clearing it, advanced with hasty strides towards the house. On his arrival Mrs. Gastrel asked him, " if he had forgotten that there was a small gate for foot passengers by the side of the carriage entrance." " No, my dear lady, by no means," replied the Doctor ; "but I had a mind to try whether I could climb a gate now as I used to do when I was a lad." 386. Cato's Soliloquy. One day Mrs. Gastrel set a little girl to repeat to him Cato's soliloquy, which she went through very correctly. The Doctor, after a pause, asked the child, " What was to bring Cato to an end ?" She said, it was a knife. " No, my dear, it was not so." " My aunt Polly said it was a knife." " Why aunt Polly's knife may do, but it was a dagger, my dear." He then asked her the meaning of " bane and antidote," which she was unable to give. Mrs. Gastrel said, " You cannot expect so young a child Q. 2 228 JOHNSONIANA. to know the meaning of such words." He then said, "My dear, how many pence are there in sixpence?" " 1 cannot tell, Sir," was the half-terrified reply. On this, addressing himself to Mrs. Gastrel, he said, " Now, my dear lady, can any thing be more ridiculous than to teach a child Cato's soliloquy, who does not know how many pence there are in sixpence ?" 387. Charity. The ladies at Stow-Hill would occasionally rebuke Dr. Johnson for the indiscriminate exercise of his charity to all who applied for it. " There was that woman," said one of them, " to whom you yesterday gave half-a-crown, why she was at church to-day in long sleeves and ribands." " Well, my dear," replied Johnson, " and if it gave the woman pleasure, why should she not wear them ? " 388. Gilbert Walmesley. He had long promised to write Mr. Walmesley's epi- taph, and Mrs. W. waited for it, in order to erect a monument to her husband's memory \ procrastination, however, one of the Doctor's few failings, prevented its being finished ; he was engaged upon it in his last illness, and when the physicians, at his own request, informed him of his danger, he pushed the papers from before him, saying, " It was too late to write the epitaph of another, when he should so soon want one himself." V ft I M ^ * > K > £ 1 ^X if * ^i ^ -A ■Pi >§ 229 Part XII. ANECDOTES, BY MRS. ROSE. (') 389. The Dockers. Dr. Mudge used to relate as a proof of Dr. Johnson's quick discernment into character : — When he was on a visit to Dr. Mudge at Plymouth, the inhabitants of the Dock (now Devonport) were very desirous of their town being- supplied with water, to effect which it was necessary to obtain the consent of the corporation of Plymouth ; this was obstinately refused, the Dock being considered as an upstart. And a rival, Alderman Tolcher, who took a very strong part, called one morning, and immediately opened on the subject to Dr. Johnson, who appeared to give great attention, and, when the alderman had ceased speaking, replied, " You are perfectly right, Sir ; I would let the rogues die of thirst, for I hate a Docker from my heart/' The old man went away quite delighted, and told all his acquaintances how completely " the great Dr. Johnson was on his side of the question." ( 2 ) 390. Calumny. — Ridicule. It was after the publication of the Lives of the Poets that Dr. Farr, being engaged to dine with Sir Joshua (1) [Mrs. Rose, who has obligingly communicated these anecdotes, is the daughter of Dr. Farr, of Plymouth, and the daughter-in-law of Dr. Johnson's old friend, Dr. Rose, of Chiswick. — C] (2) [This story is told by Mr. Boswell, and commented upon by Mr. Blake- way, as if Dr. Johnson had seriously entered iuto the spirit of the contest ; whereas Dr. Mudge, more naturally, represents him as flattering, with an ironical vehemence, the prejudices of the worthy alderman, who is known, from other circumstances, to have been of a verv zealous disposition. — C] Q 3 c 230 JOHNSONIANA. Reynolds, mentioned, on coming in, that, in his way, he had seen a caricature, which he thought clever, of the nine muses flogging Dr. Johnson round Parnassus. The ad- mirers of Gray and others, who thought their favourites hardly treated in the Lives, were laughing at Dr. Farr's account of the print, when Dr. Johnson was himself an- nounced. Dr. Farr heing the only stranger, Sir Joshua introduced him, and, to Dr. Farr's infinite embarrassment, repeated what he had just been telling them. Johnson was not at all surly on the occasion, but said, turning to Dr. Farr, " Sir, I am very glad to hear this. I hope the day will never arrive when I shall neither be the object of calumny or ridicule, for then I shall be neglected and forgotten/' Q) 391. "Fiddle-de-dee." It was near the close of his life that two young ladies, who were warm admirers of his works, but had never seen himself, went to Bolt Court, and, asking if he was at home, were shown up stairs, where he was writing. He laid down his pen on their entrance ; and, as they stood before him, one of the females repeated a speech of some length, previously prepared for the occasion. It was an enthusiastic effusion, which, when the speaker had finished, she panted for her idol's reply. What was her mortification when all he said was, " Fiddle-de-dee, my dear." 392. Hayley. Much pains were taken by Mr. Hayley's friends to prevail on Dr. Johnson to read " The Triumphs of Temper," when it was in its zenith ; at last he consented, but never got beyond the two first pages, of which he uttered a few words of contempt that I have now forgot- ten. They were, however, carried to the author, who (1) [This was his usual declaration on all such occasions. If Johnson had been an amateur author, abuse and even criticism would no doubt have given him pain, but, to an author by profession, and one who, for so many years, had lived by his pen, the greatest misfortune would be neglect : for his daily bread de- pended on the sensation his works might create. This observation will be found applicable to many other cases. — C] ilOSE. 231 revenged himself by portraying Johnson as Rumble in his comedy of "The Mausoleum ; " and subsequently he published, without his name, a " Dialogue in the Shades between Lord Chesterfield and Dr. Johnson," more distin- guished for malignity than wit. JBeing anonymous, and possessing very little merit, it fell still-born from the press. 393. Mrs. Montagu. — Lord Lyttelton. Dr. Johnson sent his "Life of Lord Lyttelton" in MS. to Mrs. Montagu, who was much dissatisfied with it, and thought her friend every way underrated ; but the Doctor made no alteration. When he subsequently made one of a party at Mrs. Montagu's, he addressed his hostess two or three times after dinner, with a view to engage her in conversation : receiving only cold and brief answers, he said, in a low voice, to General Paoli, who sat next him, and who told me the story, " You see, Sir, I am no longer the man for Mrs. Montagu." 394. Favourite Couplet. Mrs. Piozzi related to me, that when Dr. Johnson one day observed, that poets in general preferred some one couplet they had written to any other, she replied, that she did not suppose he had a favourite ; he told her she was mistaken — he thought his best lines were :— <~ " The encumber'd oar scarce leaves the hostile coast. Through purple billows and a floating host" Q 4 %32 JOHNSONIANA Part XIII. ANECDOTES OF DR. JOHNSON, BY WILLIAM SEWARD, ESQ.(') 395. Sir Robert Walpole. Dr. Johnson said one day of Sir Robert Walpole, that he was the best minister this country ever had ; " for," said he, " he would have kept it in perpetual peace, if we" — meaning the Tories and those in opposition to him — "would have let him." 390. Romantic Virtue. Dr. Johnson used to advise his friends to be upon their guard against romantic virtue, as being founded upon no settled principle : " a plank," said he, " that is tilted up at one end, must of course fall down on the other." 397. Little Books. Another admonition of his was, never to go out without some little book or other in their pocket. " Much time," added he, " is lost by waiting, by travelling, &c, and this may be prevented, by making use of every possible opportunity for improvement." 398. Languages. " The knowledge of various languages," said he, " may be kept up by occasionally using bibles and prayer-books in them at church." (I) [Author of " Anecdotes of Distinguished Persons," " Biographiana, &c."] MR. SEWARD. 233 899. Christian Religion. In a conversation with the Due de Chaulnes, the duke said to Johnson, " that the morality of the different reli- gions existing in the world was nearly the same." " But you must acknowledge, my lord," said the Doctor, " that the Christian religion puts it upon its proper basis — the fear and love of God." 400. Dr. Burney. Of the musical tracts of Dr. Burney this great critic in style thought so highly, that he told a friend of his, after he had published his Scotch Tour, " Sir, I had Burney in my eye all the while I was writing my Journal." 401. Mrs. Montagu. — Shakspeare. — Voltaire. Of Mrs. Montagu's elegant " Essay upon Shakspeare," he always said, that it was ad hominem ; that it was con- clusive against Voltaire ; and that she had done what she intended to do." 402. Preface to Shakspeare. Johnson's Preface to his edition of Shakspeare was styled by Dr. Adam Smith, the most manly piece of cri- ticism that was ever published in any country. 403. Infant Hercules. Sir Joshua Reynolds, in his picture of the infant Her- cules, painted for the Empress of Russia, in the person of Tiresias the soothsayer, gave an adumbration of Johnson's manner. 404. Due as MontmorencL In a conversation with Dr. Johnson on the subject of this nobleman, he said, " Had I been Richelieu, I could not have found in my heart to have suffered the first Christian baron to die by the hands of the executioner." 2S4 JOHNSONIANA. 405. Music. Dr. Johnson was observed by a musical friend of his to be extremely inattentive at a concert, whilst a celebrated solo player was running" up the divisions and subdivisions of notes upon his violin. His friend, to induce him to take greater notice of what was going* on, told him how extremely difficult it was. " Difficult do you call it, Sir ? " replied the Doctor : "I wish it were impossible. 5 ' 406. Voltaire. Dr. Johnson told Voltaire's antagonist Freron, that vir erat acerrimi ingenii, ac paucarum literarum ; and Warburton says of him, that " he wrote indifferently well upon every thing." 235 Part XIV. ANECDOTES OF DR. JOHNSON, BY OZIAS HUMPHRY, R.A. (1) 407. Johnson in 1764. The day after I wrote my last letter to you I was intro- duced to Mr. Johnson by a friend : we passed through three very dirty rooms to a little one that looked like an old counting-house, where this great man was sat at his breakfast. The furniture of this room was a very large deal writing-desk, an old walnut-tree table, and five ragged chairs of four different sets. I was very much struck with Mr. Johnson's appearance, and could hardly help thinking him a madman for some time, as he sat waving over h?s breakfast like a lunatic. He is a very large man, and was dressed in a dirty brown coat and waistcoat, with breeches that were brown also (though they had been crimson), and an old black wig : his shirt collar and sleeves were unbuttoned ; his stockings were down about his feet, which had on them, by way of slippers, an old pair of shoes. He had not been up long when we called on him, which was near one o'clock : he seldom goes to bed till near two in the morning ; and Mr. Reynolds tells me he generally drinks tea about an hour after he has supped. We had been some time with him before he began to talk, but at length he began, and, faith, to some purpose ! every thing he says is as correct as a second edition : *t is almost impossible to argue with him, he is so sententious and so knowing. (1) [In a letter to his brother, the Rev. William Humphry, Rector of Kem- sing and Seal, in Kent, and Vicar of Birling : from the original, in the posses- sion of Mr. Upcott, dated September 19. 1764. For Boswell's account of Mr. Humphry, see Life, vol. v. p. 163.] 236 JOHNSONIANA. 408. Sir Joshua Reynolds, I asked him, if he had seen Mr. Reynolds's pictures lately. " No, Sir." " He has painted many fine ones." " I know he has," he said, " as I hear he has been fully employed." I told him, I imagined Mr. Reynolds was not much pleased to be overlooked by the court, as he must be conscious of his superior merit. " Not at all displeased," he said ; " Mr. Reynolds has too much good sense to be affected by it : when he was younger he believed it would have been agreeable ; but now he does not want their favour. It has ever been more profitable to be popular among the people than favoured by the King : it is no re- flection on Mr. Reynolds not to be employed by them ; but it will be a reflection for ever on the court not to have employed him. The King, perhaps, knows nothing but that he employs the best painter ; and as for the queen, I don't imagine she has any other idea of a picture, but that it is a thing composed of many colours." 409. Bath. When Mr. Johnson understood that I had lived some time in Bath, he asked me many questions that led, indeed, to a general description of it. He seemed very well pleased ; but remarked, that men and women bathing together, as they do at Bath, is an instance of barbarity, that he believed could not be paralleled in any part of the world. He entertained us about an hour and a half in this manner ; then we took our leave. I must not omit to add, that I am informed he denies himself many con- veniences, though he cannot well afford any, that he may have more in his power to give in charities. 237 Part XV. ANECDOTES OF DR. JOHNSON, BY SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. (') 410. Johnson 9 s Conversation. — Sir Joshua Reynolds 's " Discourses." — Art of Thinking. I remember Mr. Burke, speaking of the Essays of Sir Francis Bacon, said, he thought them the best of his works. Dr. Johnson was of opinion, that " their excel- lence and their value consisted in being the observations of a strong mind operating upon life ; and in consequence you find there what you seldom find in other books." It is this kind of excellence which gives a value to the per- formances of artists also. It is the thoughts expressed in the works of Michael Angelo, Coreggio, Raffaelle, Par- megiano, and perhaps some of the old Gothic masters, and not the inventions of Pietro da Cortona, Carlo Marati, Luca Giordano, and others, that I might mention, which we seek after with avidity : from the former we learn to think originally. May I presume to introduce myself on this occasion, and even to mention, as an instance of the truth of what I have remarked, the very Discourses which I have had the honour of delivering from this place ? Whatever merit they have, must be imputed, in a great measure, to the education which I may be said to have had under Dr. Johnson. I do not mean to say, though it certainly would be to the credit of these Discourses, if I could say it with (1) [From an unfinished Discourse, found by Mr. Malone among Sir Joshua's loose papers. See Works, vol. i. p. 9.] 238 JOHNSONJANA. truth, that he contributed even a single sentiment to them ; but he qualified my mind to think justly. (No man had, like him, the faculty of teaching inferior minds the art of thinking. Perhaps other men might have equal know- ledge \ but few were so communicative. CHis great pleasure was to talk to those who looked up to him. It was here he exhibited his wonderful powers. ) In mixed company, and frequently in company that ought to have looked up to him, many, thinking they had a character for learning to support, considered it as beneath them to enlist in the train of his auditors ; and to such persons he certainly did not appear to advantage, being often impe- tuous and overbearing. The desire of shining in conversation was in him, in- deed, a predominant passion ; and if it must be attributed to vanity, let it at the same time be recollected, that it produced that loquaciousness from which his more in- timate friends derived considerable advantage. The ob- servations which he made on poetry, on life, and on every thing about us, I applied to our art ; with what success, others must judge. Perhaps an artist in his studies should pursue the same conduct ; and, instead of patching up a particular work on the narrow plan of imitation, rather endeavour to acquire the art and power of thinking. 411. Johnson's Style of Conversation, [The following jeu d 1 esprit was written by Sir Joshua Reynolds to illustrate a remark which he had made, that " Dr. Johnson considered Garfick as his property, and would never suffer any one to praise or abuse him but himself." In the first of these supposed dialogues, Sir Joshua himself, by high encomiums upon Garrick, is represented as drawing doivn upon him Johnsons censure ; in the second, Mr. Gibbon, by taking the opposite side, calls forth his praise.] TWO DIALOGUES IN IMITATION OF JOHNSON^ STYLE OF CONVERSATION^ 1 ) Johnson against Garrick. Dr. Johnson and Sir Joshua Reynolds. Reynolds. Let me alone, I'll bring him out. (^4side.) I have been thinking, Dr. Johnson, this morning, on a (1) [These Dialogues were printed in 1816 from the MS. of Sir Joshua, by his niece, Lady Thomond : they were not published, but distributed by her ladyship SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 239 matter that has puzzled me very much; it is a subject that I dare say has often passed in your thoughts, and though / cannot, I dare say you have made up your mind upon it. Johnson. Tilly fally I what is all this preparation, what is all this mighty matter ? Rey. Why, it is a very weighty matter. The subject I have been thinking upon is, predestination and freewill, two things I cannot reconcile together for the life of me ; in my opinion, Dr. Johnson, freewill and foreknowledge cannot be reconciled. Johns. Sir, it is not of very great importance what your opinion is upon such a question. Rey. But I meant only, Dr. Johnson, to know your opinion. Johns. No, Sir, you meant no such thing ; you meant only to show these gentlemen that you are not the man they took you to be, but that you think of high matters sometimes, and that you may have the credit of having it said that you held an argument with Sam. Johnson on predestination and freewill ; a subject of that magnitude as to have engaged the attention of the world, to have per- plexed the wisdom of man for these two thousand years ; a subject on which the fallen angels, who had yet not lost their original brightness, find themselves in wandering mazes lost. That such a subject could be discussed in the levity of convivial conversation, is a degree of absurdity beyond what is easily conceivable. Rey. It is so, as you say, to be sure ; I talked once to to some friends of Dr. Johnson and Sir Joshua. The copy which I have was spontaneously transmitted to me by Mrs. Gwynn, the friend of Goldsmith and of Johnson, whose early beauty is noticed by Boswell, and who is still dis- tinguished for her amiable character and high mental accomplishments. Lady Thomond, in the prefatory note, calls this a "jeu d'esprit ;" but I was in- formed by the late Sir George Beaumont, who knew all the parties, and to whom Reynolds himself gave a copy of it, that if the wordsjew d'esprit were to be under- stood to imply that it was altogether an invention of Sir Joshua's, the term would be erroneous. The substance, and many of the expressions, of the dialogues did really occur ; Sir Joshua did little more than collect, as if into two conversations, what had been uttered at many, and heighten the effect by the juxtaposition of such discordant opinions, — C] 240 JOHNSONIANA. our friend Garrick upon this subject, but I remember we could make nothing- of it. Johns. O noble pair ! Rey. Garrick was a clever fellow, Dr. J. ; Garrick, take him altogether, was certainly a very great man. Johns. Garrick, Sir, may be a great man in your opinion, as far as I know, but he was not so in mine ; little things are great to little men. Rey. I have heard you say, Dr. Johnson Johns. Sir, you never heard me say that David Garrick was a great man ; you may have heard me say that Gar- rick was a good repeater — of other men's words — words put into his mouth by other men ; this makes but a faint approach towards being a great man. Rey. But take Garrick upon the whole, now, in regard to conversation Johns. Well, Sir, in regard to conversation, I never discovered in the conversation of David Garrick any intel- lectual energy, any wide grasp of thought, any extensive comprehension of mind, or that he possessed any of those powers to which great could, with any degree of propriety, be applied. Rey. But still Johns. Hold, Sir, I have not done — there are, to be sure, in the laxity of colloquial speech, various kinds of greatness ; a man may be a great tobacconist, a man may be a great painter, he may be likewise a great mimic : now you may be the one, and Garrick the other, and yet neither of you be great men. Rey. But, Dr. Johnson Johns. Hold, Sir, I have often lamented how danger- ous it is to investigate and to discriminate character, to men who have no discriminative powers. Rey. But Garrick, as a companion, I heard you say — no longer ago than last Wednesday, at Mr. Thrale's table Johns. You tease me, Sir. Whatever you may have heard me say — no longer ago than last Wednesday, at Mr. Thrale's table, I tell you I do not say so now : besides, SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 241 as I said before, you may not have understood me, you misapprehended me, you may not have heard me. Rey. I am very sure I heard you. Johns. Besides, besides, Sir, besides, — do you not know, — are you so ignorant as not to know, that it is the highest degree of rudeness to quote a man against himself ? Rey. But if you differ from yourself, and give one opinion to-day Johns. Have done, Sir ; the company, you see, are tired, as well as myself." Dr. Johnson and Mr. Gibbon. Johnson. No, Sir : Garrick's fame was prodigious, not only in England, but over all Europe. Even in Russia I have been told he was a proverb ; when any one had re- peated well, he was called a second Garrick. Gibbon. I think he had full as much reputation as he deserved. Johns. I do not pretend to know, Sir, what your mean- ing may be, by saying he had as much reputation as he deserved ; he deserved much, and he had much. Gib. Why, surely, Dr. Johnson, his merit was in small things only, he had none of those qualities that make a real great man. Johns. Sir, I as little understand what your meaning may be when you speak of the qualities that make a great man ; it is a vague term. Garrick was no common man ; a man above the common size of men may surely, without any great impropriety, be called a great man. In my opinion he has very reasonably fulfilled the prophecy which he once reminded me of having made to his mother, when she asked me how little David went on at school, that I should say to her, that he would come to be hanged, or come to be a great man. No, Sir, it is undoubtedly true that the same qualities, united with virtue or with vice, make a hero or a rogue, a great general or a highway- man. Now Garrick, we are sure, was never hanged, and in regard to his being a great man, you must take the whole man together. It must be considered in how many R 242 JOHNSONIANS. things Gar rick excelled in which every man desires to excel : setting aside his excellence as an actor, in which he is acknowledged to be unrivalled : as a man, as a poet, as a convivial companion, you will find but few his equals, and none his superior. As a man, he was kind, friendly, benevolent, and generous. Gib. Of Garrick's generosity I never heard ; I under- stood his character to be totally the reverse, and that he was reckoned to have loved money. Johns. That he loved money, nobody will dispute ; who does not ? but if you mean, by loving money, that he was parsimonious to a fault, Sir, you have been mis- informed. To Foote, and such scoundrels, who circulated those reports, to such profligate spendthrifts prudence is meanness, and economy is avarice. That Garrick, in early youth, was brought up in strict habits of economy, I believe, and that they were necessary, I have heard from himself; to suppose that Garrick might inadvertently act from this habit, and be saving in small things, can be no wonder : but let it be remembered at the same time, that if he was frugal by habit, he was liberal from principle ; that when he acted from reflection, he did what his fortune enabled him to do, and what was expected from such a fortune. I remember no instance of David's parsimony but once, when he stopped Mrs. Woffington from replenishing the tea-pot ; it was already, he said, as red as blood ; and this instance is doubtful, and happened many years ago. In the latter part of his life I observed no blameable parsi- mony in David ; his table was elegant and even splendid ; his house both in town and country, his equipage, and I think all his habits of life, were such as might be expected from a man who had acquired great riches. In regard to his generosity, which you seem to question, I shall only say, there is no man to whom I would apply with more confidence of success, for the loan of two hundred pounds to assist a common friend, than to David, and this too with very little, if any, probability of its being repaid. Gib. You were going to say something of him as a writer — you don't rate him very high as a poet. Johns. Sir, a man may be a respectable poet without SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 243 being 1 a Homer, as a man may be a good player without being a Garrick. In the lighter kinds of poetry, in the appendages of the drama, he was, if not the first , in the very first class. He had a readiness and facility, a dexterity of mind that appeared extraordinary even to men of experience, and who are not apt to wonder from igno- rance. Writing prologues, epilogues, and epigrams, he said he considered as his trade, and he was, what a man should be, always, and at all times, ready at his trade. He required two hours for a prologue or epilogue, and five minutes for an epigram. Once at Burke's table the company proposed a subject, and Garrick finished his epi- gram within the time ; the same experiment was repeated in the garden, and with the same success. Gib. Garrick had some flippancy of parts, to be sure, and was brisk and lively in company, and by the help of mimicry and story-telling, made himself a pleasant com- panion : but here the whole world gave the superiority to Foote, and Garrick himself appears to have felt as if his genius was rebuked by the superior powers of Foote. It has been often observed, that Garrick never dared to enter into competition with him, but was content to act an under- part to bring Foote out. Johns. That this conduct of Garrick's might be in- terpreted by the gross minds of Foote and his friends, as if he was afraid to encounter him, I can easily imagine. Of the natural superiority of Garrick over Foote, this conduct is an instance : he disdained entering into compe- tition with such a fellow, and made him the buffoon of the company ; or, as you say, brought him out. And what was at last brought out but coarse jests and vulgar merriment, indecency and impiety, a relation of events which, upon the face of them, could never have happened, characters grossly conceived and as coarsely represented ? Foote was even no mimic ; he went out of himself, it is true, but without going into another man ; he was ex- celled by Garrick even in this, which is considered as Foote's greatest excellence. Garrick, besides his exact imitation of the voice and gesture oijhis original, to a degree of refinement of which Foote had no conception, r 2 244 JOHNSONIANA. exhibited the mind and mode of thinking of the person imitated. Besides, Garrick confined his powers within the limits of decency ; he had a character to preserve, Foote had none. By Foote's buffoonery and broad-faced merriment, private friendship, public decency, and every thing- estimable amongst men were trod under foot. We all know the difference of their reception in the world. No man, however high in rank or literature, but was proud to know Garrick, and was glad to have him at his table ; no man ever considered or treated Garrick as a player ; he may be said to have stepped out of his own rank into a higher, and by raising himself, he raised the rank of his profession. At a convivial table his exhilarat- ing powers were unrivalled ; he was lively, entertaining, quick in discerning the ridicule of life, and as ready in representing it ; and on graver subjects there were few topics in which he could not bear his part. It is injurious to the character of Garrick to be named in the same breath with Foote. That Foote was admitted sometimes into good company (to do the man what credit I can) I will allow, but then it was merely to play tricks : Foote's merriment was that of a buffoon, and Garrick's that of a gentleman. Gib. I have been told, on the contrary, that Garrick in company had not the easy manners of a gentleman. Johns. Sir, I don't know what you may have been told, or what your ideas may be, of the manners of a gentleman : Garrick had no vulgarity in his manners ; it is true Garrick had not the airiness of a fop, nor did he assume an affected indifference to what was passing ; he did not lounge from the table to the window, and from thence to the fire, or, whilst you were addressing your discourse to him, turn from you and talk to his next neighbour, or give any indication that he was tired of your company : if such manners form your ideas of a fine gentleman, Garrick certainly had them not. Gib. I mean that Garrick was more overawed by the presence of the great, and more obsequious to rank, than Foote, who considered himself as their equal, and treated them with the same familiarity as they treated each other. SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 245 Johns. He did so, and what did the fellow get by it? The grossness of his mind prevented him from seeing that this familiarity was merely suffered as they would play with a dog ; he got no ground by affecting to call peers by their surnames ; the foolish fellow fancied that lowering them was raising himself to their level ; this affectation of familiarity with the great, this childish ambition of mo- mentary exaltation obtained by the neglect of those cere- monies which custom has established as the barriers between one order of society and another, only showed his folly and meanness ; he did not see that by encroaching on others' dignity, he puts himself in their power either to be repelled with helpless indignity, or endured by clemency and con- descension. Garrick, by paying due respect to rank, respected himself ; what he gave was returned, and what was returned he kept for ever ; his advancement was on firm ground, he was recognised in public as well as respected in private, and as no man was ever more courted and better received by the public, so no man was ever less spoiled by its flattery ; Garrick continued advancing to the last, till he had acquired every advantage that high birth or title could bestow, except the precedence of going into a room ; but when he was there, he was treated with as much attention as the first man at the table. It is to the credit of Garrick, that he never laid any claim to this dis- tinction ; it was as voluntarily allowed as if it had been his -? birthright. In this, I confess, I looked on David with some degree of envy, not so much for the respect he re- ceived, as for the manner of its being acquired ; what fell into his lap unsought, I have been forced to claim. I began the world by fighting my way. There was something about me that invited insult, or at least a disposition to neglect, and I was equally disposed to repel insult and to claim attention, and I fear continue too much in this dis- position now it is no longer necessary ; I receive at present as much favour as I have a right to expect. I am not one of the complainers of the neglect of merit. Gib. Your pretensions, Dr. Johnson, nobody will dis- pute ; I cannot place Garrick on the same footing ; your reputation will continue increasing after your death, when R 3 246 JOHNSONIANA. Garrick will be totally forgotten ; you will be for ever considered as a classic Johns. Enough, Sir, enough ; the company would be better pleased to see us quarrel than bandying com- pliments. Gib. But you must allow, Dr. Johnson, that Garrick was too much a slave to fame, or rather to the mean am- bition of living with the great, terribly afraid of making himself cheap even with them ; by which he debarred him- self of much pleasant society. Employing so much at- tention, and so much management upon such little things, implies, I think, a little mind. It was observed by his friend Col man, that he never went into company but with a plot how to get out of it ; he was every minute called out, and went off or returned as there was or was not a pro- bability of his shining. Johns. In regard to his mean ambition, as you call it, of living with the great, what was the boast of Pope, and is every man's wish, can be no reproach to Garrick ; he who says he despises it knows he lies. That Garrick husbanded his fame, the fame which he had justly ac- quired both at the theatre and at the table, is not denied ; but where is the blame, either in the one or in the other, of leaving as little as he could to chance ? Besides, Sir, consider what you have said ; you first deny Garrick's pretensions to fame, and then accuse him of too great an attention to preserve what he never possessed. Gib. I don't understand — Johns. Sir, I can't help that. Gib. Well, but Dr. Johnson, you will not vindicate him in his over and above attention to his fame, his inor- dinate desire to exhibit himself to new men, like a coquette, ever seeking after new conquests, to the total neglect of old friends and admirers : — cc He threw off his friends like a huntsman his pack," always looking out for new game. Johns. When you quoted the line from Goldsmith, you ought, in fairness, to have given what followed : — " He knew when he pleased he could whistle them back ;' SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 247 which implies, at least, that he possessed a power over other men's minds approaching to fascination ; but con- sider, Sir, what is to be done ; here is a man whom every other man desired to know. Garrick could not receive and cultivate all, according to each man's conception of his own value : we are all apt enough to consider ourselves as possessing a right to be excepted from the common crowd ; besides, Sir, I do not see why that should be imputed to him as a crime, which we all so irresistibly feel and practise : we all make a greater exertion of the presence of new men than old acquaintance ; it is undoubtedly true that Garrick divided his attention among so many, that but little was left to the share of any individual ; like the extension and dissipation of water into dew, there was not quantity united sufficiently to quench any man's thirst ; but this is the in- evitable state of things : Garrick, no more than another man, could unite what, in their natures, are incompatible. Gib. But Garrick not only was excluded by this means from real friendship, but accused of treating those whom he called friends with insincerity and double dealings. Johns. Sir, it is not true ; his character in that respect is misunderstood : Garrick was, to be sure, very ready in promising, but he intended at that time to fulfil his pro- mise ; he intended no deceit : his politeness or his good- nature, call it which you will, made him unwilling to deny; he wanted the courage to say No, even to unreasonable demands. This was the great error of his life : by rais- ing expectations which he did not, perhaps could not, gratify, he made many enemies ; at the same time it must be remembered, that this error proceeded from the same cause which produced many of his virtues. Friend- ships from warmth of temper too suddenly taken up, and too violent to continue, ended as they were like to do, in disappointment ; enmity succeeded disappointment ; his friends became his enemies ; and those having been fos- tered in his bosom, well knew his sensibility to reproach, and they took care that he should be amply supplied with such bitter potions as they were capable of administering ; their impotent efforts he ought to have despised, but he felt them ; nor did he affect insensibility. R 4 248 JOHNSONIANA. Gib. And that sensibility probably shortened his life. Johns. No, Sir, he died of a disorder of which you or any other man may die, without being killed by too much sensibility. Gib. But you will allow, however, that this sensibility, those fine feelings, made him the great actor he was. Johns. This is all cant, fit only for kitchen wenches and chambermaids : Garrick's trade was to represent passion, not to feel it. Ask Reynolds whether he felt the distress of Count Hugolino when he drew it. Gib. But surely he feels the passion at the moment he is representing it. Johns. About as much as Punch feels. That Garrick himself gave into this foppery of feelings I can easily be- lieve; but he knew at the same time that he lied. He might think it right, as far as I know, to have what fools imagined he ought to have ; but it is amazing that any one should be so ignorant as to think that an actor will risk his reputation by depending on the feelings that shall be excited in the presence of two hundred people, on the repetition of certain words which he has repeated two hundred times before in what actors call their study. No, Sir, Garrick left nothing to chance ; every gesture, every expression of countenance, and variation of voice, was settled in his closet before he set his foot upon the stage." (') (1) [This is conformable with the opinion of Grimm and Diderot, and with the admission of Mr. Kemble; but it must not be understood too literally. A great actor prepares in his study, positions, attitudes, the particular mode of uttering certain passages, and even the tone which is to be adopted ; and having once ascertained, both by thought and experience, what is best, he will naturally adhere to that, however often he may play the part ; but it is equally certain, that there is a large portion of the merit of a great theatrical exhibition which is not reduci- ble to any rule, and which depends, not only on the general powers of the per- former, but on his health, his spirits, and other personal circumstances of the moment which may tend to encourage or restrain his powers. And it may be safely affirmed, that although no actor ever fancies himself Othello, or any actress Calista, yet that the unpremeditated emotions last alluded to constitute a great part of the charm which distinguishes on the stage excellence from mediocrity. — C] 249 Part XVI. ANECDOTES AND REMARKS, BY MADAME D'ARBLAY. (») 412. Mr, Bewley, — Johnson's Hearth-broom, In I76O, Mr. Burney found an opportunity of paying his persona] respects to Dr. Johnson ; who then resided in chambers in the Temple. While awaiting the appearance of his revered host, Mr. Burney recollected a supplication from Mr. Bewley, the philosopher of Massingham, to be indulged with some token, however trifling or common, of his friend's admission to the habitation of this great man. Vainly, however, Mr. Burney looked around the apartment for something that he might innoxiously purloin. Nothing but coarse and necessary furniture was in view ; nothing portable — not even a wafer, the cover of a letter, or a split pen, was to be caught ; till, at length, he had the happiness to espy an old hearth-broom in the chimney corner. From this, with hasty glee, he cut off a bristly wisp, which he hurried into his pocket-book ; and after- wards formally folded in silver paper, and forwarded, in a frank to Lord Orford, for Mr. Bewley ; by whom the burlesque offering was hailed with good-humoured accla- mation, and preserved through life. 413. Music, Dr. Johnson, who had no ear for music, had accustomed (1) [Formerly, the celebrated Miss Fanny, Burney author of " Evelina," &c. ; from whose interesting Memoirs of her father, Dr. Burney, these anec- dotes are taken.] 250 JOHNSONIANA. himself, like many other great writers who have had that same, and frequently sole, deficiency, to speak slightingly both of the art and of its professors : and it was not till after he had become intimately acquainted with Dr. Burney and his various merits, that he ceased to join in a jargon so unworthy of his liberal judgment, as that of excluding musicians and their art from celebrity. The first symptom that he showed of a tendency to conversion upon this sub- ject, was upon hearing the following paragraph read, accidentally, aloud by Mrs. Thrale, from the preface to the History of Music, while it was yet in manuscript : — " The love of lengthened tones and modulated sounds, seems a passion implanted in human nature throughout the globe ; as we hear of no people, however wild and savage in other particulars, who have not music of some kind or other, with which they seem greatly delighted." — " Sir," cried Dr. Johnson, after a little pause, " this assertion I believe may be right." And then, seesawing a minute or two on his chair, he forcibly added, " All animated nature loves music — except myself ! " Some time later, when Dr. Burney perceived that he was generally gaining ground in the house, he said to Mrs. Thrale, who had civilly been listening to some favourite air that he had been playing, " I have yet hopes, Madam, with the assistance of my pupil, to see yours become a musical family. Nay, I even hope, Sir," turning to Dr. Johnson, " I shall some time or other make you, also, sensible of the power of my art." " Sir," answered the Doctor, smiling, " I shall be very glad to have a new sense put into me ! " 414. Dr. Burney. The Tour to the Hebrides being then in hand, Dr. Burney inquired of what size and form the book would be. " Sir," he replied, with a little bow, " you are my model ! " Impelled by the same kindness, when my father lamented the disappointment of the public in Hawkes- worth's Voyages, — "Sir," he cried, "the public is always disappointed in books of travels j — except yours." d'arblay. &51 And afterwards, he said, that he had hardly ever read any book quite through in his life ; but added, " Chamier and I, Sir, however, read all your travels through ; except, perhaps, the description of the great pipes in the organs of Germany and the Netherlands." 415. Streatham Library. Mr. Thrale had lately fitted up a rational, readable, well-chosen library. It were superfluous to say, that he had neither authors for show, nor bindings for vanity, when it is known, that while it was forming, he placed merely one hundred pounds in Dr. Johnson's hands for its completion ; though such was his liberality, and such his opinion of the wisdom as well as knowledge of the Doctor in literary matters, that he would not for a mo- ment have hesitated to subscribe to the highest estimate that the Doctor might have proposed. One hundred pounds, according to the expensive habits of the present day, of decorating books like courtiers and coxcombs, rather than like students and philosophers, would scarcely purchase a single row for a book-case of the length of Mr. Thrale's at Streatham ; though, under such guidance as that of Dr. Johnson, to whom all finery seemed foppery, and all fop- pery futility, that sum, added to the books naturally inherited, or already collected, amply sufficed for the un- sophisticated reader, where no peculiar pursuit, or unlimited spirit of research, demanded a collection for reference ra- ther than for instruction and enjoyment. 416. Streatham Gallery. This was no sooner accomplished, than Mr. Thrale resolved to surmount these treasures for the mind by a similar regale for the eyes, in selecting the persons he most loved to contemplate, from amongst his friends and favourites, to preside over the literature that stood highest in his estimation. And, that his portrait painter might go hand in hand in judgment with his collector of books, he fixed upon the matchless Sir Joshua Reynolds to add living excellence to dead perfection, by giving him the personal 252 JOHNSONIANA. resemblance of the following elected set ; every one of which occasionally made a part of the brilliant society of Streatham. Mrs. Thrale and her eldest daughter were in one piece, over the fire-place, at full length. The rest of the pictures were all three-quarters. Mr. Thrale was over the door leading to his study. The general collection then began by Lord Sandys and Lord Westcote, two early noble friends of Mr. Thrale. Then followed Dr. Johnson, Mr. Murphy, Mr. Burke, Mr. Garrick, Dr. Goldsmith, Mr. Baretti, Sir Robert Chambers, and Sir Joshua Reynolds himself. All painted in the highest style of the great master ; who much delighted in this his Streatham gal- lery. There was place left but for one more frame, when the acquaintance with Dr. Burney began at Streatham ; and the charm of his conversation and manners, joined to his celebrity in letters, so quickly won upon the master as well as the mistress of the mansion, that he was pre- sently selected for the honour of filling up this last chasm in the chain of Streatham worthies. To this flattering distinction, which Dr. Burney always recognised with plea- sure, the public owe the engraving of Bartolozzi, which is prefixed to the History of Music. 417. Johnson's Kindness of Heart, The friendship and kindness of heart of Dr. Johnson were promptly brought into play by this renewed inter- course. Richard, the youngest son of Dr. Burney, born of the second marriage, was then preparing for Winchester School, whither his father purposed conveying him in per- son. This design was no sooner known at Streatham, where Richard, at that time a beautiful as well as clever boy, was in great favour with Mrs. Thrale, than Dr. Johnson volunteered an offer to accompany the father to Winchester ; that he might himself present the son to Dr. War ton, the then celebrated master of that ancient recep- tacle for the study of youth. Dr. Burney, enchanted by such a mark of regard, gratefully accepted the proposal ; and they set out together for Winchester, where Dr. War ton expected them with ardent hospitality. 9A 55 418. Dr. Warton. Dr. Warton's reception of Dr. Johnson was rather rapturous than glad. Dr. Warton was always called an enthusiast by Dr. Johnson, who, at times, when in gay spirits, and with those with whom he trusted their ebulli- tion, would take off Dr. Warton with the strongest humour ; describing, almost convulsively, the ecstasy with which he would seize upon the person nearest to him, to hug in his arms, lest his grasp should be eluded, while he displayed some picture, or some prospect, and indicated, in the midst of contortions and gestures that violently and ludicrously shook, if they did not affright his captive, the particular point of view, or of design, that he wished should be noticed. 419. Johnson's Humility. From Dr. Johnson's internal humility, it is possible that he was not himself aware of the great chasm that sepa- rated him from the herd of mankind, when not held to it by the ties of benevolence or of necessity. To talk of humility and Dr. Johnson together, may, perhaps, make the few who remember him smile, and the many who have only heard of him stare. But his humility was not that of thinking more lowlily of himself than of others ; it was simply that of thinking so lowlily of others, as to hold his own conscious superiority of but small scale in the balance of intrinsic excellence. 420. Visit to Dr. Burney. I shall now give in detail a narrative of the first ap- pearance of Dr. Johnson at my father's residence in St. Martin's Lane, the house of Sir Isaac Newton. Mrs. and Miss Thrale, Miss Owen, and Mr. Seward, came long be- fore Lexiphanes. Mrs. Thrale is a pretty woman still, though she has some defect in the mouth that looks like a cut, or scar ; but her nose is very handsome, her com- plexion very fair ; she has the embonpoint charmant, and her eyes are blue and lustrous. She is extremely lively and chatty 5 and showed none of the supercilious or pe- 254 JOHNSONIANA. dan tic airs, so freely, or, rather, so scoffingly attributed to women of learning or celebrity ; on the contrary, she is full of sport, remarkably gay, and excessively agreeable. I liked her in every thing except her entrance into the room, which was rather florid and flourishing, as who should say, " It's I! — no less a person than Mrs. Thrale ! " The conversation was supported with a great deal of vivacity, as usual when il Signor Padrone is at home. This confab, was broken up by a duet between your Hettina and, for the first time to company-listeners, Suzette. In the midst of this performance, Dr. Johnson was announced. Every body rose to do him honour; and he returned the attention with the most formal courtesy. My father then, having welcomed him with the warmest respect, whispered to him that music was going forward ; which he would not, my father thinks, have found out; and placing him on the best seat vacant, told his daughters to go on with the duet ; while Dr. Johnson, intently rolling towards them one eye, — for they say he does not see with the other, — made a grave nod, and gave a dig- nified motion with one hand, in silent approvance of the proceeding. But now I am mortified to own, that he is, indeed, very ill-favoured. Yet he has naturally a noble figure ; tall, stout, grand, and authoritative : but he stoops hor- ribly ; his back is quite round : his mouth is continually opening and shutting, as if he were chewing something ; he has a singular method of twirling his fingers, and twisting his hands : his vast body is in constant agitation, see-sawing backwards and forwards : his feet are never a moment quiet ; and his whole great person looked often as if it were going to roll itself, quite voluntarily, from his chair to the floor. His dress, considering the times, and that he had meant to put on all his best becomes, for he was engaged to dine with a very fine party at Mrs. Montagu's, was as much out of the common road as his figure. He had a large, full, bushy wig, a snuff-colour coat, with gold buttons (or, peradventure, brass), but no ruffles to his doughty 255 fists ; and not, I suppose, to be taken for a Blue, though going to the Blue Queen, he had on very coarse black worsted stockings. He is shockingly near-sighted ; a thousand times more so than either my Padre or myself. He did not even know Mrs. Thrale, till she held out her hand to him ; which she did very engagingly. After the first few mi- nutes, he drew his chair close to the piano-forte, and then bent down his nose quite over the keys, to examine them, and the four hands at work upon them ; till poor Hetty and Susan hardly knew how to play on, for fear of touch™ ing his phiz ; or, which was harder still, how to keep their countenances. When the duet was finished, my father introduced Hettina to him, as an old acquaintance, to whom, when she was a little girl, he had presented his Idler. His answer to this was imprinting on her pretty face — not a half touch of a courtly salute — but a good, real, substantial, and very loud kiss. Every body was obliged to stroke their chins, that they might hide their mouths. Beyond this chaste embrace, his attention was not to be drawn off two minutes longer from the books, to which he now strided his way. He pored over them, shelf by shelf, almost brushing them with his eye-lashes from near exa- mination. At last fixing upon something that happened to hit his fancy, he took it down, and, standing aloof from the company, which he seemed clean and clear to forget, he began, without further ceremony, and very composedly, to read to himself ; and as intently as if he had been alone in his own study. We were all excessively provoked : for we were languishing, fretting, expiring to hear him talk — not to see him read ! — what could that do for us ? 421. Garrick. They talked of Mr. Garrick, and his late exhibition before the King ; to whom, and to the Queen and Royal Family, he has been reading Lethe in character ; c'est a dire, in different voices, and theatrically. Mr. Seward gave an amusing account of a fable which Mr. Garrick 256 JOHNSONIANA. had written by way of prologue, or introduction, upon this occasion. In this he says, that a blackbird, grown old and feeble, droops his wings, &c, and gives up singing ; but, upon being called upon by the eagle, his voice recovers its powers, his spirits revive, he sets age at defiance, and sings better than ever. " There is not," said Dr. Johnson, " much of the spirit of fabulosity in this fable ; for the call of an eagle never yet had much tendency to restore the warbling of a blackbird. 'Tis true, the fabulists frequently make the wolves converse with the lambs ; but then, when the conversation is over, the lambs are always devoured : and, in that manner, the eagle, to be sure, may entertain the blackbird ; but the entertainment always ends in a feast for the eagle." " They say," cried Mrs. Thrale, " that Garrick was extremely hurt by the coldness of the King's applause ; and that he did not find his reception such as he had expected." " He has been so long accustomed," said Mr. Seward, "to the thundering acclamation of a theatre, that mere calm approbation must necessarily be insipid, nay, dispiriting to him." " Sir," said Dr. Johnson, " he has no right, in a royal apartment, to expect the hallooing and clamour of the one-shilling gallery. The King, I doubt not, gave him as much applause as was rationally his due. And, indeed, great and uncommon as is the merit of Mr. Garrick, no man will be bold enough to assert that he has not had his just proportion both of fame and profit. He has long reigned the unequalled favourite of the public ; and there- fore nobody, we may venture to say, will mourn his hard lot, if the King and the Royal Family were not trans- ported into rapture upon hearing him read £ Lethe.' But yet, Mr. Garrick will complain to his friends ; and his friends will lament the King's want of feeling and taste. But then. Mr. Garrick will kindly excuse the King. He will say that his Majesty might, perhaps, be thinking of something else ! — that the affairs of America might, possibly, occur to him — or some other subject of state, more important, perhaps, than * Lethe.' But though he will candidly say this himself, he will not easily forgive his friends if they do not contradict him ! " 257 " Garrick," he said, " is accused of vanity ; but few men would have borne such unremitting prosperity with greater, if with equal, moderation. He is accused, too, of avarice, though he lives rather like a prince than an actor. But the frugality he practised when he first ap- peared in the world, has put a stamp upon his character ever since. And now, though his table, his equipage, and his establishment, are equal to those of persons of the most splendid rank, the original stain of avarice still blots his name. And yet, had not his early, and perhaps ne- cessary economy fixed upon him the charge of thrift, he would long since have been reproached with that of luxury." Another time he said of him, " Garrick never enters a room, but he regards himself as the object of general attention, from whom the entertainment of the company is expected. And true it is, that he seldom disappoints that expectation : for he has infinite humour, a very just pro- portion of wit, and more convivial pleasantry than almost any man living. But then off, as well as on the stage, he is always an actor ; for he holds it so incumbent upon him to be sportive, that his gaiety, from being habitual, is become mechanical ; and he can exert his spirits at all times alike, without any consultation of his disposition to hilarity.'' 422. Streatham < ' Evelina.'" Dr. Johnson, however undesignedly, was the cause of the new author's invitation to Streatham, from being the first person who there had pronounced the name of "Evelina ;" and that previously to the discovery that its unknown writer was the daughter of a man whose early enthusiasm for Dr. Johnson had merited his warm acknow- ledgments. The curiosity of the Doctor, however, though certainly excited, was by no means so powerful as to allure him from his chamber one moment before his cus- tomary time of descending to dinner ; and the new author had three or four hours to pass in constantly augmenting trepidation : for the prospect of seeing him, which so short a time before would have sufficed for her delight, was now chequered by the consciousness that she could 258 JOHNSONIANA. not, as heretofore, be in his presence only for her own gratification, without any reciprocity of notice. The morning was passed in the library, and to Doctor Burney and his daughter was passed deliciously : Mrs. Thrale, much amused by the presence of two persons so peculiarly situated, put forth her utmost powers of pleasing. " I wish you had been with us last night, Dr. Burney," she said ; " for thinking of what would happen to-day, we could talk of nothing in the world but a certain sweet book ; and Dr. Johnson was so full of it, that he quite astonished us. He has got those incomparable Brangtons quite by heart, and he recited scene after scene of their squabbles, and selfishness, and forwardness, till he quite shook his sides with laughter. But his greatest favourite is the Holborn beau, as he calls Mr. Smith. Such a fine varnish, he says, of low politeness ! such struggles to appear the fine gentleman ! such a determination to be genteel ! and, above all, such profound devotion to the ladies, — while openly declaring his distaste to matrimony ! All this Mr. Johnson pointed out with so much comicality of sport, that, at last, he got into such high spirits, that he set about personating Mr. Smith himself. We all thought we must have died no other death than that of suffocation, in seeing Dr. Johnson handing about any thing he could catch, or snatch at, and making smirking bows, saying he was all for the ladies, — every thing that was agreeable to the ladies, &c. &c, "except," says he, "going to church with them: and as to that, though marriage, to be sure, is all in all to the ladies, marriage to a man — is the devil ! " And then he pursued his personi- fications of his Holborn beau, till he brought him to what Mr. Johnson calls his climax ; which is his meeting with Sir Clement Willoughby at Madame Duval's, where a blow is given at once to his self-sufficiency, by the sur- prise and confusion of seeing himself so distanced ; and the hopeless envy with which he looks up to Sir Clement, as to a meteor such as he himself had hitherto beeii looked up to at Snow Hill, that give a finishing touch to his portrait. And all this comic humour of character, he says s owes its effect to contrast ; for without Lord Orville, d'arblay. 259 and Mr. Villars, and that melancholy and gentleman -like half- starved Scotchman, poor Macartney, the Brangtons, and the Duvals, would be less than nothing ; for vul- garity, in its own unshadowed glare, is only disgusting." 423. Introduction to Johnson, When at last we were summoned to dinner, Mrs. Thrale made my father and myself sit on each side of her. I said, I hoped I did not take the place of Dr. Johnson ; for, to my great consternation, he did not even yet appear, and I began to apprehend he meant to abscond. " No," answered Mrs. Thrale; " he will sit next to you, — and that, I am sure, will give him great pleasure." Soon after we were all marshalled, the great man en- tered. Mrs. Thrale introduced me to him with an emphasis upon my name that rather frightened me, for it seemed like a call for some compliment. But he made me a bow the most formal, almost solemn, in utter silence, and with his eyes bent downwards. I felt relieved by this distance, for I thought he had forgotten, for the present at least, both the favoured little book and the invited little scrib- bler ; and I therefore began to answer the perpetual ad- dresses to me of Mrs. Thrale with rather more ease. But by the time I was thus recovered from my panic, Dr. Johnson asked my father what was the composition of some little pies on his side of the table ; and, while my father was endeavouring to make it out, Mrs. Thrale said, " Nothing but mutton, Mr. Johnson, so I don't ask you to eat such poor patties, because I know you despise them." " No, Madam, no!" cried Dr. Johnson, "I despise nothing that is good of its sort. But I am too proud now [smiling] to eat mutton pies. Sitting by Miss Burney makes me very proud to-day!" "Miss Burney," cried Mrs. Thrale, laughing, " you must take great care of your heart, if Mr. Johnson attacks it ; for I assure you he is not often successless!" "What's that you say, Madam?" cried the Doctor; "are you making mischief between the young lady and me already ? " s 2 260 JOHNSONIANA. A little while afterwards, he drank Miss Thrale's health and mine together, in a bumper of lemonade ; and then added, " It is a terrible thing that we cannot wish young ladies to be well, without wishing them to become old women!" "If the pleasures of longevity were not gra- dual," said my father, "if we were to light upon them by a jump or a skip, we should be cruelly at a loss how to give them welcome." " But some people," said Mr. Seward, " are young and old at the same time ; for they wear so well, that they never look old." " No, Sir, no !" cried the Doctor ; " that never yet was, and never will be. You might as well say they were at the same time tall and short. Though I recollect an epitaph — I forget upon whom — to that purpose : — 1 ' Miss such a one — lies buried here, So early wise, and lasting fair, That none, unless her years you told, Thought her a child — or thought her old." My father then mentioned Mr. Garrick's epilogue to " Bonduca," which Dr. Johnson called a miserable per- formance ; and which every body agreed to be the worst that Mr. Garrick had ever written. " And yet," said Mr. Seward, " it has been very much admired. But it is in praise of English valour, and so, I suppose, the subject made it popular." " I do not know, Sir," said Dr. John- son, " any thing about the subject, for I could not read till I came to any. I got through about half a dozen lines ; but for subject, I could observe no other than per- petual dulness. I do not know what is the matter with David. I am afraid he is becoming superannuated ; for his prologues and epilogues used to be incomparable." " Nothing is so fatiguing," said Mrs. Thrale, " as the life of a wit. Garrick and Wilkes are the oldest men of their age that I know ; for they have both worn them- selves out prematurely by being eternally on the rack to entertain others." "David, Madam," said the Doctor, "looks much older than he is, because his face has had double the business of any other man's. It is never at rest. When he speaks one minute, he has quite a dif- d'arblay. 261 ferent countenance to that which he assumes the next. I do not believe he ever kept the same look for half an hour together in the whole course of his life. And such a per- petual play of the muscles must certainly wear a man's face out before his time." While I was cordially laughing at this idea, the Doctor, who had probably observed in me some little uneasy trepi- dation, and now, I suppose, concluded me restored to my usual state, suddenly, though very ceremoniously, as if to begin some acquaintance with me, requested that I would help him to some brocoli. This I did ; but when he took it, he put on a face of humorous discontent, and said, " Only this, Madam ? You would not have helped Mr. Macartney so parsimoniously ! " He affected to utter this in a whisper ; but to see him directly address me, caught the attention of all the table, and every one smiled, though in silence ; while I felt so surprised and so foolish, so pleased and so ashamed, that I hardly knew whether he meant my Mr. Macartney, or spoke at random of some other. This, however, he soon put beyond all doubt, by very composedly adding, while contemptuously regarding my imputed parsimony on his plate : " Mr. Macartney, it is true, might have most claim to liberality, poor fellow ! for how, as Tom Brangton shrewdly remarks, should he ever have known what a good dinner was, if he had never come to England ? " Perceiving, I suppose — for it could not be very difficult to discern — the commotion into which this explication put me ; and the stifled disposition to a contagious laugh, which was suppressed, not to add to my embarrassment ; he quickly, but quietly, went on to a general discourse upon Scotland, descriptive and political. From Scotland, the talk fell, but I cannot tell how, upon some friend of Dr. Johnson's, of whom I did not catch the name ; so I will call him Mr. Three Stars, * * * ; of whom Mr. Seward related some burlesque anec- dotes, from which Mr. * * * was warmly vindicated by the Doctor. " Better say no more, Mr. Seward," cried Mrs. Thrale, " for Mr. * * * is one of the persons that Mr. Johnson will suffer no one to abuse but himself. Garrick s 3 262 JOHNSONIANA. is another : for if any creature but himself says a word against Garrick, Mr. Johnson will brow-beat him in a moment." " Why, Madam, as to David," answered the Doctor, very calmly, (i it is only because they do not know when to abuse and when to praise him ; and I will allow no man to speak any ill of David, that he does not deserve. As to # * * , — why really I believe him to be an honest man, too, at the bottom : but, to be sure, he is rather penurious ; and he is somewhat mean ; and it must be owned he has some degree of brutality ; and is not without a tendency to savageness, that cannot well be defended." We all laughed, as he could not help doing himself, at such a curious mode of taking up his friend's justification. And he then related a trait of another friend who had belonged to some club ( ! ) that the Doctor frequented, who, after the first or second night of his admission, desired, as he ate no supper, to be excused paying his share for the collation. " And was he excused, Sir ? " cried my father. " Yes, Sir ; and very readily. No man is angry with another for being inferior to himself. We all admitted his plea publicly — for the gratification of scorning him privately ! For my own part, I was fool enough to constantly pay my share for the wine, which I never tasted. But my poor friend Sir John, it cannot well be denied, was but an unclubbable man." How delighted was I to hear this master of languages, this awful, this dreaded Lexiphanes, thus sportively and gaily coin burlesque words in social comicality ! I don't know whether he deigned to watch me, but I caught a glance of his eye that seemed to show pleasure in perceiving my surprise and diversion ; for with in- creased glee of manner he proceeded : — " This reminds me of a gentleman and lady with whom I once travelled. I suppose I must call them gentleman and lady, according to form, because they travelled in their own coach and four horses. But, at the first inn where we stopped to water the cattle, the lady called to a waiter for — a pint of (1) At the date of this letter, I knew not that the club to which Dr. Johnson alluded was that which was denominated his own, — or The Literary Club. d'arblay. c 26o ale ! And, when it came, she would not taste it, till she had wrangled with the man for not bringing- her fuller measure. Now, Madame Duval could not have done a grosser thing ! " A sympathetic simper now ran from mouth to mouth, save to mine, and to that of Dr. Johnson ; who gravely pretended to pass off what he had said as if it were a merely accidental reminiscence of some vulgar old ac- quaintance of his own. And this, as undoubtedly, and most kindly, he projected, prevented any sort of answer that might have made the book a subject of general dis- course. And presently afterwards, he started some other topic, which he addressed chiefly to Mr. Thrale. But if you expect me to tell you what it was, you think far more grandly of my powers of attention without, when all within is in a whirl, than I deserve. Be it, however, what it might, the next time there was a pause, we all observed a sudden play of the muscles in the countenance of the Doctor, that showed him to be secretly enjoying some ludicrous idea : and accordingly, a minute or two after, he pursed up his mouth, and, in an assumed pert, yet feminine accent, while he tossed up his head to express wonder, he affectedly minced out, " La, Polly ! — only think ! Miss has danced with a Lord ! " This was resistless to the whole set, and a general, though a gentle laugh, became now infectious ; in which, I must needs own to you, I could not, with all my embarrassment, and all my shame, and all my un- willingness to demonstrate my consciousness, help being caught — so indescribably ludicrous and unexpected was a mimicry of Miss Biddy Brangton from Dr. Johnson ! The Doctor, however, with a refinement of delicacy of which I have the deepest sense, never once cast his eyes my way during these comic traits ; though those of every body else in the company had scarcely for a moment any other direction. But imagine my relief and my pleasure, in playfulness such as this from the great literary Leviathan, whom I had dreaded almost as much as I had honoured ! How far was I from dreaming of such sportive condescension ! s 4 264 JOHNSONIANA. He clearly wished to draw the little snail from her cell, and, when once she was out, not to frighten her hack. He seems to understand my queeralities — as some one has called my not liking to he set up for a sign-post — with more leniency than any body else." 424. Lives of the Poets, While that charming work, " The Lives of the Poets," was in its progress, when only the Thrale family and its nearly adopted guests, the two Burneys, were assembled, Dr. Johnson would frequently produce one of its proof sheets to embellish the breakfast table, which was always in the library ; and was, certainly, the most sprightly and agreeable meeting of the day ; for then, as no strangers were present to stimulate exertion, or provoke rivalry, argument was not urged on by the mere spirit of victory ; it was instigated only by such truisms as could best bring forth that conflict of pros and cons which elucidates opposing opinions. Wit was not flashed with the keen sting of satire ; yet it elicited not less gaiety from sparkling with an unwounding brilliancy, which brightened, without inflaming, every eye, and charmed, without tingling, every ear. These proof sheets Mrs. Thrale was permitted to read aloud ; and the discussions to which they led were in the highest degree entertaining. Dr. Burney wistfully desired to possess one of them ; but left to his daughter the risk of the petition. A hint, however, proved sufficient, and was understood not alone with compliance, but vivacity. Boswell, Dr. Johnson said, had engaged Frank Barber, his negro servant, to collect and preserve all the proof sheets ; but though it had not been without the knowledge, it was without the order or the interference of their author : to the present solicitor, therefore, willingly and without scruple, he now offered an entire life ; adding, with a be- nignant smile, " Choose your poet ! " Without scruple, also, was the acceptance ; and, with- out hesitation, the choice was Pope. And that not merely because, next to Shakspeare himself, Pope draws human characters the most veridically, perhaps, of any poetic d'arblay. c Z$5 delineator ; but for yet another reason. Dr. Johnson composed with so ready an accuracy, that he sent his copy to the press unread ; reserving all his corrections for the proof sheets : and, consequently, as not even Dr. Johnson could read twice without ameliorating some passages, his proof sheets were at times liberally marked with changes; and, as the Museum copy of Pope's Translation of the Iliad, from which Dr. Johnson has given many examples, contains abundant emendations by Pope, I secured at once, on the same page, the marginal alterations and second thoughts of that great author, and of his great biographer. When the book was published, Dr. Johnson brought to Streatham a complete set, handsomely bound, of the Works of the Poets, as well as his own Prefaces, to present to Mr. and Mrs. Thrale. And then, telling me that to the King, and to the chiefs of Streatham alone he could offer so large a tribute, he most kindly placed before me a bound copy of his own part of the work ; in the title-page of which he gratified my earnest request by writing my name, and " From the Author." After which, at my particular solicitation, he gave me a small engraving of his portrait from the picture of Sir Joshua Reynolds. And while, some time afterwards, I was examining it at a distant table, Dr. Johnson, in pass- ing across the room, stopped to discover by what I was occupied ; which he no sooner discerned, than he began see-sawing for a moment or two in silence ; and then, with a ludicrous half-laugh, peeping over my shoulder, he called out : " Ah ha ! — Sam Johnson ! — I see thee ! — and an ugly dog thou art ! " He even extended his kindness to a remembrance of Mr. Bewley, the receiver and preserver of the wisp of a Bolt Court hearth-broom, as a relic of the Author of the Rambler ; which anecdote Dr. Burney had ventured to confess ; and Dr. Johnson now, with his compliments, sent a set of the Prefaces to St. Martin*s Street, directed, "For the Broom Gentleman:" which Mr. Bewley re- ceived with rapturous gratitude. 266 JOHNSONIANA. 425. Boswell at full Length. When next Dr. Burney took me back to Streatham, he found there, recently arrived from Scotland, Mr. Boswell ; whose sprightly Corsican tour, and heroic, almost Quix- otic, pursuit of General Paoli, joined to the tour to the Hebrides with Dr. Johnson, made him an object himself of considerable attention. He spoke the Scotch accent strongly, though by no means so as to affect, even slightly, his intelligibility to an English ear. He had an odd mock solemnity of tone and manner, that he had acquired imperceptibly from con- stantly thinking of and imitating Dr. Johnson, whose own solemnity, nevertheless, far from mock, was the result of pensive rumination. There was, also, something slouching in the gait and dress of Mr. Boswell, that wore an air, ridiculously enough, of purporting to personify the same model. His clothes were always too large for him ; his hair, or wig, was constantly in a state of negligence ; and he never for a moment sat still or upright upon a chair. Every look and movement displayed either intentional or involuntary imitation. Yet certainly it was not meant as caricature ; for his heart, almost even to idolatry, was in his reverence of Dr. Johnson. Dr. Burney was often surprised that this kind of farci- cal similitude escaped the notice of the Doctor ; but attributed his missing it to a high superiority over any such suspicion, as much as to his near-sightedness ; for fully was Dr. Burney persuaded, that had any detec- tion of such imitation taken place, Dr. Johnson, who ge- nerally treated Mr. Boswell as a school-boy, whom, without the smallest ceremony, he pardoned or rebuked, alternately, would so indignantly have been provoked, as to have instantaneously inflicted upon him some mark of his displeasure. And equally he was persuaded that Mr. Boswell, however shocked and even inflamed in receiving it, would soon, from his deep veneration, have thought it justly incurred ; and, after a day or two of pouting and sullenness, would have compromised the matter by one , ; : d'arblay. 2()7 of his customary simple apologies, of " Pray, Sir, for- give me ! " Dr. Johnson, though often irritated hy the officious importunity of Mr. Boswell, was really touched by his attachment. It was indeed surprising, and even affect- ing, to remark the pleasure with which this great man accepted personal kindness, even from the simplest of mankind ; and the grave formality with which he acknow- ledged it even to the meanest. Possibly it was what he most prized, because what he could least command ; for personal partiality hangs upon lighter and slighter qualities than those which earn solid approbation : but of this, if he had least command, he had also least want ; his towering- superiority of intellect elevating him above all competitors, and regularly establishing him, wherever he appeared, as the first being of the society. As Mr. Boswell was at Streatham only upon a morn- ing visit, a collation was ordered, to which all were as- sembled. Mr. Boswell was preparing to take a seat that he seemed, by prescription, to consider as his own, next to Dr. Johnson ; but Mr. Seward, who was present, waived his hand for Mr. Boswell to move further on, saying, with a smile, " Mr. Boswell, that seat is Miss Burney's." He stared, amazed ; the asserted claimant was new and unknown to him, and he appeared by no means pleased to resign his prior rights. But, after looking round for a minute or two, with an important air of demanding the meaning of this innovation, and receiving no satisfaction, he reluctantly, almost resentfully, got another chair, and placed it at the back of the shoulder of Dr. Johnson ; while this new and unheard-of rival quietly seated herself as if not hearing what was passing ; for she shrunk from the explanation that she feared might ensue, as she saw a smile stealing over every countenance, that of Dr. Johnson himself not excepted, at the discomfiture and surprise of Mr. Boswell. Mr. Boswell, however, was so situated as not to remark it in the Doctor ; and of every one else, when in that presence, he was unobservant, if not contemptuous. In truth, when he met with Dr. Johnson, he commonly for- 268 JOHNSONIANA. bore even answering any thing that was said, or attending to any thing that went forward, lest he should miss the smallest sound from that voice to which he paid such ex- clusive, though merited, homage. But the moment that voice burst forth, the attention which it excited in Mr. Boswell amounted almost to pain. His eyes goggled with eagerness ; he leant his ear almost on the shoulder of the Doctor ; and his mouth dropped open to catch every syllable that might be uttered : nay, he seemed not only to dread losing a word, but to be anxious not to miss a breathing ; as if hoping from it, latently, or mystically, some information. But when, in a few minutes, Dr. Johnson, whose eye did not follow him, and who had concluded him to be at the other end of the table, said something gaily and good- humouredly, by the appellation of Bozzy ; and discovered, by the sound of the reply, that Bozzy had planted himself, as closely as he could, behind and between the elbows of the new usurper and his own, the Doctor turned angrily round upon him, and, clapping his hand rather loudly upon his knee, said in a tone of displeasure, " What do you do there, Sir ? — Go to the table, Sir ! " Mr. Boswell instantly, and with an air of affright, obeyed : and there was something so unusual in such humble submission to so imperious a command, that ano- ther smile gleamed its way across every mouth, except that of the Doctor and of Mr. Boswell ; who now, very unwillingly, took a distant seat. But, ever restless when not at the side of Dr. Johnson, he presently recollected something that he wished to exhibit, and, hastily rising, was running away in its search ; when the Doctor, calling after him, authoritatively said : " What are you thinking of, Sir ? Why do you get up before the cloth is removed ? Come back to your place, Sir ! " Again, and with equal obsequiouness, Mr. Boswell did as he was bid ; when the Doctor, pursing his lips, not to betray rising risibility, muttered half to himself: "Run- ning about in the middle of meals ! One would take you for a Brangton ! — " "A Brangton, Sir ?" repeated Mr. 269 Boswell, with earnestness ; " what is a Brangton, Sir?" " Where have you lived, Sir," cried the Doctor, laughing-, " and what company have you kept, not to know that ?" Mr. Boswell now, doubly curious, yet always appre- hensive of falling into some disgrace with Dr. Johnson, said, in a low tone, which he knew the Doctor could not hear, to Mrs. Thrale : "Pray, Ma'am, what's a Brangton ? — Do me the favour to tell me ? — Is it some animal hereabouts ?" Mrs. Thrale only heartily laughed, but without answering : as she saw one of her guests uneasily fearful of an explanation. But Mr. Seward cried, ' * I '11 tell you, Boswell — I '11 tell you ! — if you will walk with me into the paddock : only let us wait till the table is cleared ; or I shall be taken for a Brangton, too ! " They soon went off together ; and Mr. Boswell, no doubt, was fully informed of the road that had led to the usurpation by which he had thus been annoyed. But the Brangton fabricator took care to mount to her chamber ere they returned ; and did not come down till Mr. Bos- well was gone. 426. Dr. Johnson 1 's last Illness, On Dr. Johnson's return from Lichfield, in November 1784, my father hastened to Bolt Court, but had the grief to find his honoured friend much weakened, and in great pain ; though cheerful, and struggling to revive. All of Dr. Burney's family, who had had the honour of admis- sion, hastened to him also ; but chiefly his second daughter, who chiefly and peculiarly was always demanded. She was received with his wonted, his never-failing partiality ; and, as well as the Doctor, repeated her visits by every oppor- tunity during the ensuing short three weeks of his earthly existence. She will here copy, from the diary she sent to Boulogne, an account of what, eventually, though un- suspectedly, proved to be her last interview with this vene- rated friend : — Nov. 25. 1784. — Our dear father lent me the car- riage this morning for Bolt Court. You will easily conceive how gladly I seized the opportunity for making a longer visit than usual to my revered Dr. Johnson, whose 270 JOHNSONIANA. health, since his return from Lichfield, has been de- plorably deteriorated. He was alone, and I had a more satisfactory and entertaining- conversation with him than I have had for many months past. He was in better spirits, too, than I have seen him, except upon our first meeting, since he came back to Bolt Court. He owned, neverthe- less, that his nights were grievously restless and painful ; and told me that he was going, by medical advice, to try what sleeping out of town might do for him. And then, with a smile, but a smile of more sadness than mirth ! he added, " I remember that my wife, when she was near her end, poor woman ! was also advised to sleep out of town : and when she was carried to the lodging that had been prepared for her, she complained that the staircase was in very bad condition ; for the plaster was beaten off the walls in many places. 'Oh!' said the man of the house, * that's nothing ; it's only the knocks against it of the coffins of the poor souls that have died in the lodging.' " He forced a faint laugh at the man's brutal honesty ; but it was a laugh of ill-disguised, though checked, secret anguish. I felt inexpressibly shocked, both by the perspective and retrospective view of this relation ; but, desirous to confine my words to the literal story, I only exclaimed against the man's unfeeling absurdity in making so unnecessary a confession. " True ! " he cried ; " such a confession, to a person then mounting his stairs for the recovery of her health, or, rather, for the preservation of her life, con- tains, indeed, more absurdity than we can well lay our account to." We talked then of poor Mrs. Thrale, but only for a mo- ment ; for I saw him so greatly moved, and with such severity of displeasure, that I hastened to start another subject ; and he solemnly enjoined me to mention that no more. I gave him concisely the history of the Bristol milk- woman, who is at present zealously patronised by the bene- volent Hannah More. I expressed my surprise at the reports generally in circulation, that the first authors that the milk- woman read, if not the only ones, were Milton and Young. 271 " I find it difficult/' I added, " to conceive how Milton and Young could be the first authors with any reader. Could a child understand them ? And grown persons who have never read, are, in literature, children still." " Doubtless," he answered. " But there is nothing so little comprehended as what is genius. They give it to all, when it can be but a part. The milk- woman had surely begun with some ballad — " Chevy Chase," or the "Children in the Wood." Genius is, in fact, knowing the use of tools. But there must be tools, or how use them ? A man who has spent all his life in this room, will give a very poor account of what is contained in the next." " Certainly, Sir ; and yet there is such a thing as invention ? Shakspeare could never have seen a Ca- liban ? " " No ; but he had seen a man, and knew how to vary him to a monster. A person who would draw a monstrous cow, must know first what a cow is commonly ; or how can he tell that to give her an ass's head, or an elephant's tusk, will make her monstrous ? Suppose you show me a man who is a very expert carpenter, and that an admiring stander-by, looking at some of his works, exclaims : ' O ! he was born a carpenter ! ' What would have become of that birthright if he had never seen any wood ? " Presently, dwelling on this idea, he went on, " Let two men, one with genius, the other with none, look toge- ther at an overturned waggon ; he who has no genius will think of the waggon only as he then sees it ; that is to say, overturned, and walk on : he who has genius will give it a glance of examination, that will paint it to his imagination such as it was previously to its being over- turned, and when it was standing still, and when it was in motion, and when it was heavy loaded, and when it was empty ; but both alike must see the waggon to think of it at all." The pleasure with which I listened to his illustration now animated him on ; and he talked upon this milk- woman, and upon a once as famous shoemaker ; and then mounted his spirits and his subject to our immortal Shak- speare ; flowing and glowing on, with as much wit and 272 JOHNSONIANA. truth of criticism and judgment, as ever yet I have heard him display ; but, alack-a-day ! my Susan, I have no power to give you the participation so justly your due. My paper is filling ; and I have no franks for doubling letters across the channel ! But delightfully bright are his facul- ties, though the poor, infirm, shaken machine that contains them seems alarmingly giving way ! And soon, exhi- larated as he became by the pleasure of bestowing plea- sure, I saw a palpable increase of suffering in the midst of his sallies ; I offered, therefore, to go into the next room, there to wait for the carriage ; an offer which, for the first time, he did not oppose ; but taking, and most affectionately pressing, both my hands, " Be not," he said, in a voice of even melting kindness and concern, " be not longer in coming again for my letting you go now!" I eagerly assured him I would come the sooner, and was running off ; but he called me back, and in a solemn voice, and a manner the most energetic, said : " Remember me in your prayers ! " How affecting such an injunction from Dr. Johnson ! It almost — as once before — made me tremble, from sur- prise and emotion — surprise he could so honour me, and emotion that he should think himself so ill. I longed to ask him so to remember me ! but he was too serious for any parleying, and I knew him too well for offering any dis- qualifying speeches : I merely, in a low voice, and I am sure, a troubled accent, uttered an instant and heartfelt assurance of obedience ; and then, very heavily indeed in spirits, I left him. From this meeting I felt redoubled anxiety, both for the health and the sight of this illustrious invalid. But all ac- counts thenceforward discouraged my return to him ; his pains daily becoming greater, and his weakness more oppressive ; added to which obstacles, he was now con- stantly attended by a group of male friends. I was soon afterwards engaged on a visit to Norbury Park ; but im- mediately upon my return to town, presented myself, according to my willing promise, at Bolt Court. Frank Barber, the faithful negro, told me, with great sorrow, that his master was very bad indeed, though he did not %j3 keep his bed. The poor man would have shown me up stairs. This I declined, desiring" only that he would let the Doctor know that I had called to pay my respects to him, but would by no means disturb him, if he were not well enough to see me without inconvenience. Mr. Strahan, the clergyman, was with him, Frank said, alone ; and Mr. Strahan, in a few minutes, descended. Dr. Johnson, he told me, was very ill indeed, but much obliged to me for coming to him ; and he had sent Mr. Strahan to thank me in his name ; but to say that he was so very weak, that he hoped I would excuse his not seeing* me. I was greatly disappointed ; but, leaving a message of the most affectionate respect, acquiesced, and drove away ; painfully certain how extremely ill, or how sorrowfully low he must be, to decline the sight of one whom so con- stantly, so partially, he had pressed, nay, adjured, " to come to him again and again." Fast, however, was approaching the time wdien he could so adjure me no more! From my firm conviction of his almost boundless kind- ness to me, I was fearful now to importune or distress him, and forebore, for the moment, repeating my visits ; leaving in Dr. Burney's hands all propositions for their renewal. On Friday, the 10th of December, Mr. Seward brought to my father the alarming intelligence from Frank Barber, that Dr. Warren had seen his master, and told him that he might take what opium he pleased for the alleviation of his pains. Dr. Johnson instantly understood, and im- pressively thanked him, and then gravely took a last leave of him ; after which, with the utmost kindness, as well as composure, he formally bade adieu to all his physicians. Dr. Burney, in much affliction, hurried to Bolt Court : but the invalid seemed to be sleeping, and could not be spoken to till he should open his eyes. Mr. Strahan, the clergyman, gave, however, the welcome information, that the terror of death had now passed away ; and that this excellent man no longer looked forward with dismay to his quick-approaching end ; but, on the contrary, with what he himself called the irradiation of hope. T 274 JOHNSONIANA. This was, indeed, the greatest of consolations, at so awful a crisis, to his grieving friend ; nevertheless, Dr. Burney was deeply depressed at the heavy and irreparable loss he was so soon to sustain ; but he determined to make at least one more effort for a parting sight of his so long-honoured friend. And, on Saturday, the 11th December, to his unspeakable comfort, he arrived at Bolt Court just as the poor invalid was able to be visible ; and he was immediately admitted. Dr. Burney found him seated on a great chair, propped up by pillows, and perfectly tranquil. He affectionately took my father's hand, and kindly inquired after his health, and that of his family ; and then, as evermore Dr. John- son was wont to do, he separately and very particularly named, and dwelt upon his second daughter ; gently adding, " I hope Fanny did not take it amiss that I did not see her that morning? — I was very bad indeed!" Dr. Burney answered, that the word amiss could never be a propos to her ; and least of all now, when he was so very ill. My father ventured to stay about half an hour, which was partly spent in quiet discourse, partly in calm si- lence ; the invalid always perfectly placid in looks and manner. When he was retiring, Dr. Johnson again took his hand and encouraged him to call yet another time ; and afterwards, when again he was departing, Dr. Johnson impressively said, though in a low voice, " Tell Fanny to pray for me !" And then still holding, or rather grasping his hand, he made a prayer for himself, the most pious, hum- ble, eloquent, and touching, Dr. Burney said, that mortal man could compose and utter. He concluded it with an amen ! in which Dr. Burney fervently joined ; and which was spontaneously echoed by all who were present. This over, he brightened up, as if with revived spirits, and opened cheerfully into some general conversation ; and when Dr. Burney, yet a third time, was taking his reluc- tant leave, something of his old arch look played upon his countenance, as smilingly he said, " Tell Fanny, I think I shall yet throw the ball at her ! " A kind- ness so lively, following an injunction so penetrating, d'arblay. 275 reanimated a hope of my admission ; and, after church, on the ensuing morning-, Sunday, the 12th of December, with the fullest approbation of Dr. Burney, I repaired once more to Bolt Court. But grievously was I overset on hearing at the door, that the Doctor was worse, and could receive no one. I summoned Frank Barber, and told him I had understood, from my father, that Dr. Johnson had meant to see me. Frank then, but in silence, conducted me to the parlour. I begged him merely to mention to the Doctor, that I had called with most earnest inquiries ; but not to hint at any expectation of seeing him till he, should be better. Frank went up stairs ; but did not return. A full hour was consumed in anxious waiting. I then saw Mr. Langton pass the parlour door, which I watchfully kept open, and ascend the stairs. I had not courage to stop or speak to him, and another hour lingered on in the same suspense. But, at about four o'clock, Mr. Langton made his ap- pearance in the parlour. I took it for granted he came accidentally, but observed that, though he bowed he forbore to speak, or even to look at me, and seemed in much disturbance. Extremely alarmed, I durst not venture at any question ; but Mrs. Davis, who was there, uneasily asked, "How is Dr. Johnson now, Sir?" " Going on to death very fast !" was the mournful reply. Grievously shocked and overset by so hopeless a sentence, after an invitation so sprightly of only the preceding eve- ning from the dying man himself, I turned to the window to recover from so painful a disappointment. " Has he taken any thing, Sir?" said Mrs. Davis. "Nothing at all ! We carried him some bread and milk : he re- fused it, and said, 'The less the better !'" Mrs. Davis then asked sundry other questions, from the answers to which it fully appeared that his faculties were perfect, and that his mind was quite composed. This conversation lasted about a quarter of an hour, be- fore I had any suspicion that Mr. Langton had entered the parlour purposely to speak to me, and with a message from Dr. Johnson ; but as soon as I could summon sufficient T % 276 JOHNSONIANA. firmness to turn round, Mr. Langton solemnly said, " The Doctor is very sorry indeed not to see you ; but he desired me to come and speak to you for him myself, and to tell you, that he hopes you will excuse him ; for he feels him- self too weak for such an interview." Touched to the very heart by so kind, though sorrowful a message, at a moment that seemed so awful, I hastily expressed some- thing like thanks -to Mr. Langton, who was visibly affected ; and, leaving my most affectionate respects, with every warmly kind wish I could half utter, I hurried back to my father's coach. The very next day, Monday, the 13th of December, Dr. Johnson expired, and without a groan. Expired, it is thought, in his sleep. '277 Part XVII. ANECDOTES AND REMARKS, BY DR. BEATTIE. (») 427* Johnson's " Journey" Johnson's " Journey to the Hebrides " contains many things worthy of the author, and is, on the whole, very entertaining. His account of the isles is, I dare say, very just : I never was there, and therefore can say no- thing of them, from my own knowledge. His account of some facts, relating to other parts of Scotland, are not unexceptionable. Either he must have been misinformed, or he must have misunderstood his informer, in regard to several of his remarks on the improvement of the country. I am surprised at one of his mistakes, which leads him once or twice into perplexity and false conjecture. He seems not to have known, that, in the common language of Scotland, Irish and Erse are both used to denote the speech of the Scots Highlanders ; and are as much sy- nonymous (at least, in many parts of the kingdom) as Scotch and Scottish, Irish is generally thought the genteeler appellation ; and Erse the vulgar and col- loquial. His remarks on the trees of Scotland must greatly surprise a native. In some of our provinces trees cannot be reared by any mode of cultivation we have yet discovered ; in some, where trees flourish extremely well, they are not much cultivated, because they are not neces- sary ; but in others, we have store of wood, and forests (1) [From Sir William Forbes's Life of Dr. Beattie.] T 3 278 JOHNSONIANA. of great extent, and of great antiquity. I admire John- son's genius ; I esteem him for his virtues ; I shall ever cherish a grateful remembrance of the civilities I have received from him. I have often, in this country, exerted myself in defence both of his character and writings ; but there are in this book several things which I cannot defend. 428. Mr. and Mrs. Thrale. — Goldsmith. I was introduced to Mr. and Mrs. Thrale by Dr. John- son, and received many and great civilities from both. Mr. Thrale was a most respectable character ; intelligent, modest, communicative, and friendly ; and I greatly ad- mired his wife for her vivacity, learning, affability, and beauty. I thought her, indeed, one of the most agreeable women I ever saw ; and could not have imagined her capable of acting so unwise a part as she afterwards did. What she says of Goldsmith is perfectly true. He was a poor fretful creature, eaten up with affectation and envy. He was the only person I ever knew who acknowledged himself to be envious. In Johnson's presence he was quiet enough ; but in his absence expressed great un- easiness on hearing him praised. 429. Mrs. Montagu. Johnson's harsh censure of Mrs. Montagu's Essay on Shakspeare does not surprise me ; for I have heard him speak contemptuously of it. It is, for all that, one of the best, the most original, and most elegant pieces of criticism in our language, or in any other. Johnson had many of the talents of a critic ; but his want of temper, his violent prejudices, and something, I am afraid, of an envious turn of mind, made him often an unfair one. Mrs. Montagu was very kind to him ; but Mrs. Montagu has more wit than any body ; and Johnson could not bear that any person should be thought to have wit but himself. Even Lord Chesterfield, and, what is more strange, even Mr. Burke, he would not allow to have wit. He preferred Smollett to Fielding. He would not grant that Arm- strong's poem of " Health," or the tragedy of " Douglas," BKATTIK. ^279 had any merit. He told me, that he never read Milton through, till he was obliged to do it, in order to gather words for his Dictionary. He spoke very peevishly of the " Masque of Comus ;" and when I urged, that there was a great deal of exquisite poetry in it, " Yes," said he, "but it is like gold hid under a rock ;" to which I made no reply ; for indeed I did not well understand it. 430. Johnson in 1781. Johnson grows in grace as he grows in years. He not only has better health and a fresher complexion than ever he had before (at least since I knew him), but he has contracted a gentleness of manners which pleases every body. Some ascribe this to the good company to which he has of late been more accustomed than in the early part of his life. There may be something in this ; but I am apt to think the good health he has enjoyed for a long time is the chief cause. Mr. Thrale appointed him one of his executors, and left him two hundred pounds : every body says, he should have left him two hundred a year ; which, from a fortune like his, would have been a very inconsiderable reduction. 431. Lives of the Poets. I have been reading Johnson's Prefaces to the English edition of the Poets. There are many excellent things in them, particularly in the Lives of Milton, Dryden, and Waller. He is more civil to Milton than I expected, though he hates him for his blank verse and his politics. To the forced and unnatural conceits of Cowley, I think he is too favourable ; and I heartily wish, that, instead of the poems of this poet, he had given us " The Faerie Queen' ' of Spenser, which is left out very absurdly. 432. Milton. Johnson hated Milton from his heart ; and he wished to be himself considered as a good Latin poet ; which, however, he never was, as may be seen by his translation of Pope's " Messiah." t 4 2SG JOHNSONIANA. 433. BoswelFs " Tour." I have just gone through Boswell's book. He is very- good to me, as Dr. Johnson always was ; and I am very grateful to both : but I cannot approve the plan of such a work. To publish a man's letters, or his conversation, without his consent, is not, in my opinion, quite fair ; for how many things, in the hour of relaxation, or in friendly- correspondence, does a man throw out, which he would never wish to hear of again ; and what a restraint would it be on all social intercourse, if one were to suppose that every word one utters would be entered in a register ! Mr. Boswell indeed says, that there are few men who need be under any apprehension of that sort. This is true ; and the argument he founds on it would be good, if he had published nothing but what Dr. Johnson and he said and did ; for Johnson, it seems, knew that the publication would be made, and did not object to it : but Mr. Boswell has published the sayings and doings of other people, who never consented to any such thing ; and who little thought, when they were doing their best to entertain and amuse the two travellers, that a story would be made of it, and laid before the public. I approve of the Greek proverb, that says, " I hate a bottle companion with a memory. " If my friend, after eating a bit of mutton with me, should go to the coffee-house, and there give an account of every thing that had passed, I believe I should not take it well. 281 Part XVIIL ANECDOTES AND REMARKS, BY THE RIGHT HON. WILLIAM WINDHAM .(1) [To the kindness of Thomas Amyot, Esq. F.R.S., the Editor is indebted for the following Memoranda, extracted from Mr. Windham's Diary of the Con- versations he had with Dr. Johnson during his visit at Ashbourne ; where he arrived on the 30th of August, 1784, " leaving it," as he states, " with regret, at half-past one on the 1st of September." ] 434. Homer. " The source of every thing, either in or out of nature, that can serve the purpose of poetry, is to be found in Homer ; — every species of distress, every modification of heroic character, battles, storms, ghosts, incantations, &c." 435. Odyssey. "Dr. Johnson said, he had never read through the Odyssey completely in the original." 436. Johnson's first Declamation. " Anecdote of his first declamation at College, that having neglected to write it till the morning of his being to repeat it, and having only one copy, he got part of it by heart, while he was walking into the Hall, and the rest he repeated as well as he could extempore." (1) [In a letter to Dr. Brocklesby, dated September 2., Dr. Johnson says " Windham has been here to see me : he came, I think, forty miles out of his way, and stayed about a day and a half; perhaps I make the time shorter than it was. Such conversation 1 shall not have again till I come back to the regions of literature ; and there Windham is inter Stellas Luna minores.'" ] 282 JOHNSONIAXA. 437. The Ramei. " Anecdote of his tutor, who told them that the Ramei, the followers of Ramus, were so called from Ramus, a bow." 438. Johnson* s Idleness, " Description of himself as very idle and neglectful of his studies." 439. Latin. " His opinion, that I could not name above five of my college acquaintance who read Latin with ease sufficient to make it pleasurable. The difficulties of the language overpower the desire of reading the author. " That he read Latin with as much ease when he went to college as at present." 440. Ovid's Fasti. — Wotton. — Wood. "Recommended the reading the Fasti of Ovid, — also Wotton, and Wood on Homer." 441. Death of Hercules. " Commended Ovid's description of the death of Her- cules — doubted whether Virgil would not have loaded the description with too many fine words." 442. Styles. " Opinion that there were three ways in which writing might be unnatural ; — by being bombastic and above nature — affected and beside it, fringing events with or- naments which nature did not afford — or weak and below nature. That neither of the first would please long. That the third might indeed please a good while, or at least please many ; because imbecility, and consequently a love of imbecility, might be found in many." 443. A Good Work. " Baretti had told him of some Italian author, who said that a good work must be that with which the vulgar were pleased, and of which the learned could tell why it pleased WINDHAM. 283 — that it must be able to employ the learned, and detain the idle. Chevy Chase pleased the vulgar, but did not satisfy the learned ; it did not fill a mind capable of think- ing- strongly. The merit of Shakespeare was such as the ignorant could take in, and the learned add nothing to." 444. " Stat magni nominis" tyc. " Stat magni nominis umbra he would construe as umbra quae est magni nominis, i. e. celebrata." 445. Howe's Lucan. " Opinion of Rowe's translation of Lucan, that it would have been improved, if Rowe had had a couple of years to render it less paraphrastical." 446. Virgil. " Vast change of the Latin language from the time of Virgil to Lucretius ; — greater than known in any other, even the French. The story of Dido is in Ovid's Fasti, also of Mezentius. Virgil's invention therefore is less than supposed. ' Take from his what is in Homer, what do you leave him ? ' " 447. Latin. " The pretensions of the English to the reputation of writing Latin is founded not so much on the specimens in that way which they have produced, as on the quantity of talent diffused through the country." 448. Erasmus. " Erasmus appears to be totally ignorant of science and natural knowledge. But one Italian writer is mentioned in Erasmus ; whence Johnson conjectured that he did not understand Italian." 449. Turnpike Roads. " Opinion about the effect of turnpike roads. Every- place communicating with each other. Before, there were cheap places and dear places. Now, all refuges are destroyed for elegant or genteel poverty. Want of such 284 JOHNSONIANA. a last hope to support men in their struggle through life, however seldom it might be resorted to. Disunion of families by furnishing a market to each man's abilities, and destroying the dependence of one man on another." [ The folloiving interesting Account of Mr. Windham 9 s Conversations with Dr. Johnson, a few Days before his Death, is extracted from the same Journal.~\ 450. Johnson's last Illness and Death. Tuesday, December 7« 1784. — Ten minutes past 2, p. M. — After waiting some short time in the adjoining room, I was admitted to Dr. Johnson in his bedchamber, where, after placing me next him in the chair (he sitting in his usual place, on the east side of the room, and I on his right hand), he put into my hands two small volumes (an edition of the New Testament, as he afterwards told me), saying, " Extremum hoc munus morientis habeto." He then proceeded to observe that 1 was entering upon a life which would lead me deeply into all the business of the world : that he did not condemn civil employment, but that it was a state of great danger ; and that he had therefore one piece of advice earnestly to impress upon me, that I would set apart every seventh day for the care of my soul. That one day, the seventh, should be em- ployed in repenting what was amiss in the six preceding, and fortifying my virtue for the six to come. That such a portion of time was surely little enough for the meditation of eternity. He then told me that he had a request to make to me; namely, that I would allow his servant Frank to look up to me as his friend, adviser, and protector, in all diffi- culties which his own weakness and imprudence, or the force or fraud of others, might bring him into. He said that he had left him what he considered an ample pro- vision, viz. seventy pounds per annum ; but that even that sum might not place him above the want of a pro- tector, and to me, therefore, he recommended him as to one who had will, and power, and activity to protect him. Having obtained my assent to this, he proposed that Frank WINDHAM. 285 should be called in ; and desiring me to take him by the hand in token of the promise, repeated before him the re- commendation he had just made of him, and the promise I had given to attend to it. I then took occasion to say how much I felt — what I had long foreseen that I should feel — regret at having spent so little of my life in his company. I stated this as an instance where resolutions are deferred till the occasions are past. For some time past I had determined that such an occasion of self-reproach should not subsist, and had built upon the hope of passing in his society the chief part of my time, at the moment when it was to be apprehended we were about to lose him for ever. I had no difficulty in speaking to him thus of my ap- prehensions. I could not help, on the other hand, enter- taining hopes, but with these I did not like to trouble him, lest he should conceive that I thought it necessary to flatter him : he answered hastily, that he was sure I would not ; and proceeded to make a compliment to the manliness of my mind, which, whether deserved .or not, ought to be remembered, that it may be deserved. I then stated, that among other neglects was the omission of introducing of all topics the most important, the consequence of which particularly filled my mind at that moment, and in which I had often been desirous to know his opinions ; the subjects I meant were, I said, natural and revealed religion. The wish thus generally stated, was in part gratified on the instant. For revealed religion, he said, there was such historical evidence, as, upon any subject not religious, would have left no doubt. Had the facts recorded in the New Testament been mere civil occurrences, no one would have called in question the testimony by which they are established ; but the impor- tance annexed to them, amounting to nothing less than the salvation of mankind, raised a cloud in our minds, and created doubts unknown upon any other subject. Of proofs to be derived from history, one of the most cogent, he seemed to think, was the opinion so well authenticated, and so long entertained, of a deliverer that was to appear about that time. Among the typical representations, the 286 JOHNSONIANA. sacrifice of the Paschal Lamb, in which no bone was to be broken, had early struck his mind. For the immediate life and miracles of Christ, such attestation as that of the apostles, who all, except St. John, confirmed their testi- mony with their blood — such belief as these witnesses procured from a people best furnished with the means of judging, and least disposed to judge favourably — such an extension afterwards of that belief over all the nations of the earth, though originating from a nation of all others most despised, would leave no doubt that the things wit- nessed were true, and were of a nature more than human. With respect to evidence, Dr. Johnson observed, that we had not such evidence that Caesar died in the Capitol, as that Christ died in the manner related. December 11. — Went with Sir Joshua, whom I took up by the way, to see Dr. Johnson. Strahan and Lang- ton there. No hopes ; though a great discharge had taken place from the legs. December 12. — At about half-past seven p.m. went to Dr. Johnson's, where I stayed, chiefly in the outer room, till past eleven. Strahan there during the whole time ; during part Mr. Hoole ; and latterly Mr. Cruikshanks and the apothecary. I only went in twice, for a few minutes each time : the first time I hinted only what they had be- fore been urging ; namely, that he would be prevailed upon to take some sustenance, and desisted upon his ex- claiming, " ' Tis all very childish ; let us hear no more of it." The second time I came in, in consequenee of a con- sultation with Mr. Cruikshanks and the apothecary, and addressed him formally, after premising that I considered what 1 was going to say as matter of duty ; 1 said that I hoped he would not suspect me of the weakness of im- portuning him to take nourishment for the purpose of prolonging his life for a few hours or days. I then stated what the reason was. It was to secure that which I was persuaded he was most anxious about ; namely, that he might preserve his faculties entire to the last moment. Before I had quite stated my meaning, he interrupted me by saying, that he had refused no sustenance but inebriat- ing sustenance; and proceeded to give instances where, in WINDHAM. 287 compliance with the wishes of his physician, he had taken even a small quantity of wine. I readily assented to any objections he might have to nourishment of that kind ; and observing that milk was the only nourishment I intended, flattered myself that I had succeeded in my endeavours, when he recurred to his general refusal, and "begged that there might be an end of it." I then said, that I hoped he would forgive my earnestness, or something to that effect, when he replied eagerly, that from me nothing could be necessary by way of apology ; adding, with great fervour, in words which I shall, I hope, never forget, " God bless you, my dear Windham, through Jesus Christ ;" and concluding with a wish "that we might [[share] in some humble portion of that happiness which God might finally vouchsafe to repentant sinners." These were the last words I ever heard him speak. I hurried out of the room with tears in my eyes, and more affected than I had been on any former occasion. December 13. — In the morning meant to have met Mr. Cruikshanks in Bolt Court ; but while I was delibe- rating about going, was sent for by Mr. Burke. Went to Bolt Court about half-past three, found that Dr. Johnson had been almost constantly asleep since nine in the morning, and heard from Mr. Desmoulins what passed in the night. He had compelled Frank to give him a lan- cet, and had besides concealed in the bed a pair of scissors, and with one or the other of them had scarified himself in three places, two of them in the leg. On Mr. Des- moulins making a difficulty in giving him the lancet, he said, " Don't, if you have any scruple ; but I will compel Frank : " and on Mr. Desmoulins attempting afterwards to prevent Frank from giving it to him, and at last to restrain his hand, he grew very outrageous, so as to call Frank scoundrel, and to threaten Mr. Desmoulins that he would stab him ( ! ) ; he then made the three incisions (1) [See ante, p. 148. The reader will judge whether Boswell's or Hawkins's account of this transaction is thejuster; but that more importance may not be given to it than it deserves, it must be recollected, that Johnson fancied that his attendants were treating him with a timid leniency, merely to spare him pain, — a notion which irritated, at once, his love of life, his animal courage, and his high moral principle. We have already seen (ante, No. 232.) that when in health he had said, " Whoever in afraid of any thing is a scoundrel ;" and now, in the same 288 JOHNSONIANA. above mentioned, two of which were not unskilfully made ; but one of those in the leg was a deep and ugly wound, from which they suppose him to have lost at least eight ounces of blood. Upon Dr. Heberden expressing his fears about the scarification, Dr. Johnson told him he was timidorum timidissimus, A few days before his death, talking with Dr. Brocklesby, he said, " Now will you ascribe my death to my having taken eight grains of squills, when you recommended only three. Dr. Heberden, to my having opened my left foot, when nature was pointing out the discharge in the right." The conversation was intro- duced by his quoting some lines, to the same purpose, from Swift's verses on his own death. ( ] ) It was within the same period, if I understood Dr. Brocklesby right, that he enjoined him, as an honest man and a physician, to inform him how long he thought he had to live. Dr. Brocklesby inquired, in return, whether he had firmness to bear the answer. Upon his replying that he had, and Dr. Brocklesby limiting the time to a few weeks, he said, " that he then would trouble himself no more with medicine or medical advice : " and to this re- solution he pretty much adhered. In a conversation about what was practicable in medicine or surgery, he quoted, to the surprise of his physicians, the opinion of Marchetti for an operation of extracting (I think) part of the kidney. He recommended for an account of China, Sir John Mandeville's Travels. Holy- day's Notes on Juvenal he thought so highly of as to have employed himself for some time in translating them into Latin. feeling, and the same words, he censures the cowardly, as he thought them, apprehensions of his attendants. It might he wished that in such circumstances he had spoken and acted with less impatience ; but let us not forget the excuses which may be drawn from the natural infirmity of his temper, exasperated by the pee- vishness of a long and painful disease. — C] (1) [" The doctors, tender of their fame, Wisely on one lay all the blame : * We must confess his case was nice, But he would never take advice; Had he been ruled, for aught appears, He might have lived these twenty years ; For when we open'd him, we found That all his vital parts were sound;' "] WINDHAM. 289 He insisted on the doctrine of an expiatory sacrifice as the condition without which there was no Christianity ; and urged in support the helief entertained in all ages, and by all nations, barbarous as well as polite. He recom- mended to Dr. Brocklesby also, Clarke's Sermons, and repeated to him the passage which he had spoken of to me. While airing one day with Dr. Brocklesby, in passing and returning by St. Pancras church, he fell into prayer, and mentioned, upon Dr. Brocklesby's inquiring why the Catholics chose that for their burying place, that some Catholics in Queen Elizabeth's time, had been burnt there. (*) Upon Dr. Brocklesby's asking him whether he did not feel the warmth of the sun, he quoted from Juvenal — " Praeterea minimus gelido jam in corpore sanguis Febre calet sola." (2) December 13. — Forty-five minutes past ten p. M. — While writing the preceding articles — I received the fatal account, so long dreaded, that Dr. Johnson was no more ! May those prayers which he incessantly poured from a heart fraught with the deepest devotion, find their accept- ance with Him to whom they were addressed ; which piety, so humble and so fervent, may seem to promise ! (1) [The reader will be aware that other causes have been assigned for this preference; but I learn, from unquestionable authority, that it rests upon no foundation, and that mere prejudice exists amongst the Roman Catholics in favour of this church, as is the case with respect to othar places of burial in various parts of the kingdom. — Markland.] (2) [" Add that a fever only warms his veins, And thaws the little blood that yet remains." — Gifford.] IT £90 JOHNSONIANA, Part XIX. ANECDOTES AND REMARKS, BY HANNAH MORE. (^ 451. Introduction to Johnson, Hannah More visited London in 1773 or 1774, in company with two of her sisters. The desire she had long felt to see Dr. Johnson was speedily gratified. Her first introduction to him took place at the house of Sir Joshua Reynolds, who prepared her, as he handed her up stairs, for the possibility of his being in one of his moods of sadness and silence. She was surprised at his coming to meet her as she entered the room, with good humour in his countenance, and a macaw of Sir Joshua's on his hand ; and still more at his assisting her with a verse from a Morning Hymn, which she had written at the desire of Sir James Stonehouse. In the same pleasant humour he continued the whole of the evening. 452. Visit to Bolt Court. The most amiable and obliging of women, Miss Rey- nolds, ordered the coach to take us to Dr. Johnson's. The conversation turned upon a new work of his, just going to the press (the Journey to the Hebrides), and his old friend Richardson. Mrs. Williams, the blind poet, who lives with him, was introduced to us. She is engaging in her manners ; her conversation lively and entertaining. (1) From the very interesting Memoirs of the Life and Correspondence of Mrs. Hannah More, by William Roberts, Esq. HANNAH MORE. 291 Not finding Johnson in his little parlour when we came in, Hannah seated herself in his great chair, hoping to catch a little ray of his genius : when he heard it he laughed heartily, and told her it was a chair in which he never sat. He said it reminded him of Boswell and himself when they stopped a night at the spot (as they imagined) where the Weird Sisters appeared to Macbeth : the idea so worked upon their enthusiasm, that it quite deprived them of rest ; however, they learned, the next morning, to their mortification, that they had been deceived, and were quite in another part of the country. 453. " Sir Eldred of the Bower: 9 — " The Bleeding Rock." Johnson, full of wisdom and piety, was this evening very communicative. To enjoy Dr. Johnson perfectly, one must have him to one's self, as he seldom cares to speak in mixed parties. Our tea was not over till nine ; we then fell upon "Sir Eldred:" he read both poems through, suggested some little alterations in the first y and did me the honour to write one whole stanza (*) ; but in the " Rock," he has not altered a word. Though only a tea visit, he stayed with us till twelve. 454. Garrick and Johnson. My petite assembUe came at seven. The dramatis personce were Mrs. Boscawen, Mrs. Garrick, and Miss Reynolds ; my beaux were Dr. Johnson, Dean Tucker, and last, but not least in our love, David Garrick. You know that wherever Johnson is, the confinement to the tea- table is rather a durable situation. However, my ears were open, though my tongue was locked, and they all stayed till near eleven. Garrick was the very soul of the company, and I never saw Johnson in such perfect good- humour. We have often heard that one can never properly enjoy the company of these two unless they are together. There is great truth in this remark ; for after the Dean and Mrs. Boscawen (who were the only strangers) were (1) The stanza beginning, " My scorn has oft, &c." u 2 £92 JOHNSONIANA. gone, Johnson and Garrick began a close encounter, telling old stories, " e'en from their boyish days," at Lichfield. We all stood round them above an hour, laughing in de- fiance of every rule of Chesterfield. I believe we should not have thought of sitting down or of parting, had not an impertinent watchman been saucily vociferous. 455. Dean Tucker. I asked Dr. Johnson what he thought of the Dean of Gloucester. His answer was verbatim as follows : "I look upon the Dean of Gloucester to be one of the most excellent writers of this period. I differ from him in opinion, and have expressed that difference in my writings; but I hope what I wrote did not indicate what I did not feel, for I felt no acrimony. No person, however learned, can read his writings without improvement. He is sure to find something he did not know before." I told him the Dean did not value himself on elegance of style. He said, " he knew nobody whose style was more perspicuous, manly, and vigorous, or better suited to his subject." J was not a little pleased with this tribute to the worthy Dean's merit, from such a judge of merit ; that man, too, professedly differing from him in opinion. 45 (). ' ' Adventurer" — De Lolme. Keeping bad company leads to all other bad things. I have got the headach to-day, by raking out so late with that gay libertine, Johnson. Do you know — I did not — that he wrote a quarter of the "Adventurer?" I made him tell me all that he wrote in the " Fugitive Pieces." De Lolme (*) told me, that he thought Johnson's late political pamphlets were the best things he had written. 457. The Puritans. — Richard Baxter. Dr. Johnson never opens his mouth but one learns something ; one is sure either of hearing a new idea, or an old one expressed in an original manner. He scolded (1) [A native of Geneva, and author of " The Constitution of England ; " of ■which the first English edition appeared in 1775.] HANNAH MORE. 293 me heartily, as usual, when I differed from him in opinion, and, as usual, laughed when I flattered (*) him. I was very bold in combating - some of his darling prejudices : nay, I ventured to defend one or two of the Puritans, whom I forced him to allow to be good men, and good writers. He said he was not angry with me at all for liking Baxter. He liked him himself; " but then," said he, "Baxter was bred up in the establishment, and would have died in it, if he could have got the living of Kidder- minster. He was a very good man." Dr. Johnson was wrong* ; for Baxter was offered a bishopric after the Restoration. 458. " Tom Jones." — " Joseph Andrews" I never saw Johnson really angry with me but once, and his displeasure did him so much honour, that I loved him the better for it. I alluded, rather flippantly, I fear, to some witty passage in " Tom Jones :" he replied, " I am shocked to hear you quote from so vicious a book. I am sorry to hear you have read it : a confession which no modest lady should ever make. I scarcely know a more corrupt work." I thanked him for his correction ; assured him that I thought full as ill of it now, as he did, and had only read it at an age when I was more subject to be caught by the wit, than able to discern the mischief. Of "Joseph Andrews" I declared my decided abhorrence. He went so far as to refuse to Fielding the great talents which are ascribed to him ; and broke out into a noble panegyric on his competitor, Richardson ; who, he said, was as superior to him in talents as in virtue ; and whom he pronounced to be the greatest genius that had shed its lustre on this path of literature. 459. " Too many Irons in the Fire" Mrs. Brooke ( 2 ) having repeatedly desired Johnson to look over her new play of " The Siege of Sinope" before it was acted, he always found means to evade it ; at last (1) [On the subject of Miss More's flattery of Johnson, see ante, No. 81.] (2) [The author of " Julia Mandeville," and " Emily Montagu," and also of the favourite comic opera of " Rosina." The " Siege of Sinope" was brought out at Covent Garden in 1781, but was only performed ten nights.] u 3 294 JOHNSONIANA. she pressed him so closely that he actually refused to do it, and told her that she herself, by carefully looking it over, would be able to see if there was any thing- amiss as well as he could. " But, Sir," said she, " I have no time, I have already so many irons in the fire." " Why then, Madam," said he, quite out of patience, " the best thing I can advise you to do is, to put your tragedy along with your irons." 460. Lard Lyttelton. — Mrs. Montagu. — Mr. Pepys. Think of Johnson's having apartments in Grosvenor Square. But he says it is not half so convenient as Bolt Court ! He has just finished the Poets : Pope is the last. I am sorry he has lost so much credit by Lord Lyttelton's : he treats him almost with contempt ; makes him out a poor writer, and an envious man ; speaks well only of his " Conversion of St. Paul," of which he says, " it is sufficient to say it has never been answered." Mrs. Montagu and Mr. Pepys, his lordship's two chief surviving friends, are very angry. ( ! ) 461. Garrick. On Wednesday, Johnson came to see us; and made us a long visit. On Mrs. Garrick's telling him, she was always more at her ease with persons who had suffered the same loss with herself, he said that was a comfort she could seldom have, considering the superiority of her hus- band's merit, and the cordiality of their union. He bore his strong testimony to the liberality of Garrick. (1781.) 462. " Pensees de Pascal" He reproved me with pretended sharpness for reading " Les Pensees de Pascal," or any of the Port Royal authors ; alleging that, as a good Protestant, 1 ought to abstain from books written by Catholics. I was beginning to stand upon my defence, when he took me with both hands, and with a tear running down his cheeks, " Child," said he, with the most affecting earnestness, " 1 am heartily glad that you read pious books by whomsoever they may be written." (1) [See ante, No, 64., and post, No. 6S0.] HANNAH MORE. %95 463. Milton. On Monday, Johnson was in full song-, and I quarrelled with him sadly. I accused him of not having done justice to the "Allegro" and " Penseroso." He spoke dis- paragingly of both. I praised " Lycidas," which he ab- solutely abused, adding, " If Milton had not written the ' Paradise Lost,' he would only have ranked among the minor poets : he was a Phidias that cut a Colossus out of a rock, but could not cut heads out of cherry stones." 464. Boswell and Garrick. Bos well brought to my mind the whole of a very mirthful conversation at dear Mrs. Garrick's ; and my being made, by Sir William Forbes, the umpire in a trial of skill between Garrick and Boswell, which could most nearly imitate Dr. Johnson's manner. I remember I gave it for Boswell in familiar conversation, and for Garrick in reciting. 465. The Club Garrick' s Death. Poor Johnson is in a bad state of health. I fear his constitution is broken up ; I am quite grieved at it. He will not leave an abler defender of religion and virtue behind him ; and the following little touch of tenderness, which I heard of him last night from one of the Turk's Head Club, endears him to me exceedingly. There are always a great many candidates ready, when any vacancy happens in the Club, and it requires no small interest and reputation to get elected ; but, upon Garrick's death, when numberless applications were made to succeed him, Johnson was deaf to them all : he said, " No, there never could be found any successor worthy of such a man ; and he insisted upon it there should be a year's widowhood in the Club, before they thought of a new election. ( ] ) (1) [Garrick died in January, 1779, and no new election took place till November, 1780 j when Dr. Shipley, Bishop of St. Asaph, was chosen a raember.J u 4 296 JOHNSONIANA. 466. Metaphysical Distresses. In Dr. Johnson, some contrarieties very harmoniously meet : if he has too little charity with the opinions of others, and too little patience for their faults, he has the greatest tenderness for their persons. He told me, the other day, he hated to hear people whine about metaphy- sical distresses, when there was so much want and hunger in the world. I told him I supposed, then, he never wept at any tragedy but Jane Shore, who died for want of a loaf. He called me saucy girl, but did not deny the inference. (1782.) 467. Abstinence and Temperance. I dined very pleasantly at the Bishop of Chester's (Dr. Porteus). Johnson was there ; and the Bishop was very desirous to draw him out, as he wished to show him off to some of the company who had never seen him. He begged me to sit next him at dinner, and to devote myself to making him talk. To this end, I consented to talk more than became me ; and our stratagem succeeded. You would have enjoyed seeing him take me by the hand in the middle of dinner, and repeat, with no small enthu- siasm, many passages from the " Fair Penitent," &c. I urged him to take a little wine ; he replied, " I can't drink a little, child ; therefore I never touch it. Abstin- ence is as easy to me, as temperance would be difficult." He was very good-humoured and gay. One of the com- pany happened to say a word about poetry ; " Hush, hush !" said he, "it is dangerous to say a word of poetry before her ; it is talking of the art of war before Hannibal." He continued his jokes, and lamented that I had not married Chatterton, that posterity might have seen a propagation of poets. 468. Oxford. — Pembroke College. Who do you think is my principal Cicerone at Oxford? Only Dr. Johnson ! and we do so gallant it about ! You cannot imagine with what delight he showed me every part of his own college (Pembroke). Dr. Adams, the master, iHan/teU S..A J-;;,-; :,; ..;!!, £ '/■//////•/>■ /./>-,//• y.?y-^taLy IL I'll'] I :i,;UE STIffiJEJEir, HANNAH MORE. 297 had contrived a very pretty piece of gallantry. We spent the day and evening at his house. After dinner, Johnson begged to conduct me to see the college ; he would let no one show me it but himself. " This was my room ; this Shenstone's." Then, after pointing out all the rooms of the poets who had been of his college, " In short/' said he, "we were a nest of singing birds." — "Here we walked, there we played at cricket." He ran over with pleasure the history of the juvenile days he passed there. When we came into the common hall, we spied a fine large print of Johnson, framed and hung up that very morning, with this motto, " And is not Johnson ours, himself a host ? " Under which stared you in the face, "From Miss More's ' Sensibility.' " This little incident amused us ; — but, alas ! Johnson looks very ill indeed — spiritless and wan. (June 13. 1782.) 469. Jesuits and Jansenists. Saturday, I went to Mrs. Reynolds's, to meet Sir Joshua and Dr. Johnson. Our conversation ran very much upon religious opinions, chiefly those of the Roman Catholics. He took the part of the Jesuits, and I declared myself a Jansenist. He was very angry because I quoted Boileau's bon-mot upon the Jesuits, that they had lengthened the Creed and shortened the Decalogue ; but I continued sturdily to vindicate my old friends of the Port Royal. He looked so dreadfully that it quite grieved me. He is more mild and complacent than he used to be. His sickness seems to have softened his mind, without having at all weakened it. I was struck with the mild radiance of this setting sun. (1783.) 470. " The Bas Bleu." I went to see Dr. Johnson. He received me with the greatest kindness and affection ; and as to the Bas Bleu, all the flattery I ever received from every body together would not make up the sum. He said, — but I seriously insist you do not tell any body, for I am ashamed of writing it even to you \ — he said, there was no name in poetry #98 JOHNSONIANA. that might not be glad to own it. You cannot imagine how I stared : all this from Johnson, the parsimonious praiser ! I told him I was quite delighted at his approba- tion : he answered quite characteristically, " And so you may ; for I give you the opinion of a man who does not rate his judgment on these things very low, I can tell you. (April, 178*.) 471. Johnson's last Illness. Poor dear Johnson ! he is past all hope. I have, how- ever, the comfort to hear that his dread of dying is in a great measure subsided ; and now he says " the bitterness of death is past." He sent the other day for Sir Joshua Reynolds ; and after much serious conversation told him he had three favours to beg of him, and he hoped he would not refuse a dying friend, be they what they would. Sir Joshua promised. The first was, that he would never paint on a Sunday ; the second, that he would forgive him thirty pounds that he had lent him, as he wanted to leave them to a distressed family ; the third was, that he would read the Bible whenever he had an opportunity, and that he would never omit it on a Sunday. There was no dif- ficulty but upon the first point ; but at length Sir Joshua promised to gratify him in all. How delighted should I be to hear the dying discourse of this great and good man, especially now that faith has subdued his fears ! Mr. Pepys wrote me a very kind letter on the death of Johnson, thinking I should be impatient to hear something relating to his last hours. Dr. Brocklesby, his physician, was with him : he said to him a little before he died, " Doctor, you are a worthy man, and my friend, but I am afraid you are not a Christian ! What can I do better for you than offer up, in your presence, a prayer to the great God, that you may become a Christian in my sense of the word?" Instantly he fell on his knees, and put up a fer- vent prayer : when he got up he caught hold of his hand with great eagerness, and cried, "Doctor! you do not say, Amen ! " The doctor looked foolish ; but after a pause, cried, Amen ! Johnson said, " My dear doctor, believe a HANNAH MORE. 299 dying man, there is no salvation but in the sacrifice of the Lamb of God. Go home, write down my prayer, and every word I have said, and bring it me to-morrow." Brocklesby did so. A friend desired he would make his will ; and as Hume, in his last moments, had made an impious declaration of his opinions, he thought it might tend to counteract the poison, if Johnson would make a public confession of his faith in his will. He said he would, seized the pen with great earnestness, and asked, what was the usual form of beginning a will ? His friend told him. After the usual forms he wrote, " I offer up my soul to the great and merciful God ; I offer it full of pollution, but in full assur- ance that it will be cleansed in the blood of my Redeemer." And for some time he wrote on with the same vigour and spirit as if he had been in perfect health. When he ex- pressed some of his former dread of dying, Sir John said, " If you, Doctor, have these fears, what is to become of others?" "Oh! Sir," said he, "I have written piously, it is true ; but I have lived too much like other men." It was a consolation to him, however, in his last hours, that he had never written in derogation of religion or virtue. He talked of his death and funeral, at times, with great composure. On the Monday following, December the 13th, he fell into a sound sleep, and continued in that state for twelve hours, and then died without a groan. No action of his life became him like the leaving it. His death makes a kind of era in literature : piety and goodness will not easily find a more able defender ; and it is delightful to see him set, as it were, his dying seal to the professions of his life, and to the truth of Christianity. 472. Abbe RaynaL — Sabbath-breakers, I now recollect, with melancholy pleasure, two little anecdotes of Dr. Johnson, indicating a zeal for religion which one cannot but admire, however characteristically rough. When the Abbe Raynal was introduced to him, upon the Abb6's advancing to shake his hand, the Doctor- drew back, and put his hands behind him, and afterwards replied to the expostulation of a friend — " Sir, I will not 300 JOHNSONIANA. shake hands with an infidel ! " At another time, I remem- ber asking him, if he did not think the Dean of Derry a very agreeable man, to which he made no answer ; and on my repeating my question, " Child," said he, "I will not speak any thing in favour of a Sabbath-breaker, to please you, nor any one else," 301 Part XX. ANECDOTES AND REMARKS, BY BISHOP HORNER 1 ) 473. Johnson and his Writings. When a friend told Johnson that he was much blamed for having unveiled the weakness of Pope, " Sir," said he, " if one man undertake to write the life of another, he undertakes to exhibit his true and real character ; but this can be done only by a faithful and accurate delineation of the particulars which discriminate that character." The biographers of this great man seem conscientiously to have followed the rule thus laid down by him, and have very fairly communicated all they knew, whether to his advantage, or otherwise. Much concern, disquietude, and offence have been occasioned by this their conduct in the minds of many, who apprehend that the cause in which he stood forth will suffer by the infirmities of the advocate being thus exposed to the prying and malignant eye of the world. But did these persons then ever suppose, or did they imagine that the world ever supposed, Dr. Johnson to have been a perfect character ? Alas ! no : we all know how that matter stands, if we ever look into our own hearts, and duly watch the current of our own thoughts, works, words, and actions. Johnson was honest, and kept a faith- ful diary of these, which is before the public. Let any (I) [From •« Olla Podrida," a collection of Essays, published at Oxford in 1787.] 302 JOHNSONIANA. man do the same for a fortnight, and publish it ; and if, after that, he should find himself so disposed, let him " cast a stone." At that hour when the failings of all shall be made manifest, the attention of each individual will be confined to his own. It is not merely the name of Johnson that is to do ser- vice to any cause. It is his genius, his learning, his good sense, the strength of his'reasonings, and the happiness of his illustrations. These all are precisely what they were ; once good, and always good. His arguments in favour of self-denial do not lose their force because he fasted, nor those in favour of devotion because he said his prayers. Grant his failings were, if possible, still greater than these ; will a man refuse to be guided by the sound opinion of a counsel, or resist the salutary prescription of a physician, because they who give them are not without their faults? A man may do so, but he will never be accounted a wise man for doing it. Johnson, it is said, was superstitious. But who shall ex- actly ascertain to us what superstition is ? The Romanist is charged with it by the Church of England man ; the churchman by the presbyterian, the presbyterian by the in- dependent, all by the deist, and the deist by the atheist. With some it is superstitious to pray ; with others, to re- ceive the sacrament ; with others, to believe in God. In some minds it springs from the most amiable disposition in the world — "a pious awe, and fear to have offended ;" a wish rather to do too much than too little. Such a dis- position one loves, and wishes always to find in a friend; and it cannot be disagreeable in the sight of Him who made us. It argues a sensibility of heart, a tenderness of conscience, and the fear of God. Let him who finds it not in himself beware, lest in flying from superstition he fall into irreligion and profaneness. That persons of eminent talents and attainments in lite- rature have been often complained of as dogmatical, boisterous, and inattentive to the rules of good breeding, is well known. But let us not expect every thing from any man. There was no occasion that Johnson should teach us to dance, to make bows or turn compliments , he HORNE. 303 could teach us better things. To reject wisdom because the person of him who communicates it is uncouth, and his manners are inelegant, — what is it but to throw away a pineapple, and assign for a reason the roughness of its coat ? Who quarrels with a botanist for not being an as- tronomer ? or with a moralist for not being a mathemati- cian ? As it is said, in concerns of a much higher nature, " Every man hath his gift — one after this manner, and another after that." It is our business to profit by all, and to learn of each that in which each is best qualified to instruct us. That Johnson was generous and charitable, none can deny. But he was not always judicious in the selection of his objects : distress was a sufficient recommendation ; and he did not scrutinise into the failings of the distressed. May it be always my lot to have such a benefactor ! Some are so nice in a scrutiny of this kind, that they can never find any proper objects of their benevolence, and are neces- sitated to save their money. It should doubtless be distri- buted in the best manner we are able to distribute it ; but what would become of us all, if He on whose bounty all depend, should be extreme to mark that which is done amiss ? It is hard to judge any man, without a due consideration of all circumstances. Here were stupendous abilities and suitable attainments ; but then here were hereditary disor- ders of body and mind reciprocally aggravating each other — a scrofulous frame, and a melancholy temper : here was a life, the greater part of which passed in making provi- sion for the day, under the pressure of poverty and sick- ness, sorrow and anguish. So far to gain the ascendant over these as to do what Johnson did, required very great strength of mind indeed. Who can say that, in a like situation, he should long have possessed or been able to exert it ? From the mixture of power and weakness in the com- position of this wonderful man, the scholar should learn humility. It was designed to correct that pride which great parts and great learning are apt to produce in their possessor. In him it had the desired effect. For though 304 JOHNSONIANA. consciousness of superiority might sometimes induce him to carry it high with man (and even this was much abated in the latter part of life), his devotions have shown to the whole world how humbly he walked at all times with his God. His example may likewise encourage those of timid and gloomy dispositions not to despond. When they reflect that the vigour of such an intellect could not preserve its pos- sessor from the depredations of melancholy, they will cease to be surprised and alarmed at the degree of their own sufferings : they will resolve to bear with patience and resignation the malady to which they find a Johnson subject as well as themselves : and if they want words in which to ask relief from Him who alone can give it, the God of mercy and Father of all comfort, language affords no finer than those in which his prayers are conceived. Child of sorrow, whoever thou art, use them ; and be thankful that the man existed by whose means thou hast them to use. His eminence and his fame must of course have excited envy and malice ; but let envy and malice look at his in- firmities and his charities, and they will quickly melt into pity and love. That he should not be conscious of the abilities with which Providence had blessed him was impossible. He felt his own powers ; he felt what he was capable of having performed ; and he saw how little, comparatively speaking, he had performed. Hence his apprehensions on the near prospect of the account to be made, viewed through the medium of constitutional and morbid melancholy, which often excluded from his sight the bright beams of divine mercy. May those beams ever shine upon us ! But let them not cause us to forget, that talents have been bestowed of which an account must be rendered, and that the fate of the " unprofitable servant" may justly beget apprehensions in the stoutest mind. The indolent man who is without such apprehensions has never yet considered the subject as he ought. For one person who fears death too much, there are a thousand who do not fear enough, nor have thought in earnest about it. Let us only put in practice HORNE. 305 the duty of self-examination ; let us inquire into the suc- cess we have experienced in our war against the passions, or even against undue indulgence of the common appetites — eating, drinking, and sleeping ; we shall soon perceive how much more easy it is to form resolutions than to execute them, and shall no longer find occasion, perhaps, to wonder at the weakness of Johnson. On the whole, in the memoirs of him that have been published, there are so many witty sayings and so many wise ones, by which the world, if it so please, may be at once entertained and improved, that I do not regret their publication. In this, as in all other instances, we are to adopt the good and reject the evil. The little stories of his oddities and his infirmities in common life will, after a while, be overlooked and forgotten ; but his writings will live for ever, still more and more studied and admired, while Britons shall continue to be characterised by a love of ele- gance and sublimity, of good sense and virtue. The sincerity of his repentance, the steadfastness of his faith, and the fervour of his charity, forbid us to doubt, that his sun set in clouds to rise without them : and of this let us always be mindful, that every one who is made better by his books will add a wreath to his crown. 306 JOHNSONIANA, Part XXL ANECDOTES, BY JAMES NORTHCOTE, ESQ., R. A. (i) 474. Poverty and Mortification, At the time when Sir Joshua Reynolds resided in New- port Street, he one afternoon, accompanied by his sister Frances, paid a visit to the Miss Cottrells, who lived much in the fashionable world. Johnson was also of the party on this tea visit ; and, at that time, being- very poor, he was, as might be expected, rather shabbily aparrelled. The maid servant, by accident, attended at the door to let them in, but did not know Johnson, who was the last of the three that came in ; when the servant maid seeing this un- couth and dirty figure of a man, and not conceiving that he could be one of the company who came to visit her mistress, laid hold of his coat just as he was going up stairs, and pulled him back again, saying, " You fellow ! what is your business here ? I suppose you intended to rob the house." This most unlucky accident threw poor Johnson into such a fit of shame and anger, that he roared out, like a bull, " What have I done ? what have I done?" Nor could he recover himself for the remainder of the even- ing from this mortifying circumstance. (!) [From "Memoirs of Sir Joshua Reynolds, by James Northcote, Esq. R. A."] NORTH COTE. 307 475. Richardson. Dr. Johnson had a great desire to cultivate the friend- ship of Richardson, the author of " Clarissa ;" and, with this view, paid him frequent visits. These were re- ceived very coldly by the latter; "but," observed the Doctor, in speaking of this to a friend, " I was determined to persist till I had gained my point; because I knew very well that, when I had once overcome his reluctance and shyness of humour, our intimacy would contribute to the happiness of both." The event verified the Doctor's pre- diction. 476. Idle Curiosity. Dr. Johnson was displeased if he supposed himself at any time made the object of idle curiosity. When Miss Reynolds once desired him to dine at Sir Joshua's, on a day fixed upon by herself, he readily accepted the invit- ation ; yet, having doubts as to the importance of her com- panions, or of her reasons for inviting him, he added, at the same time, " but I will not be made a show of." 477. " Clarissa." Johnson introduced Sir Joshua Reynolds and his sister to Richardson ; but hinted to them, at the same time, that, if they wished to see the latter in good humour, they m expatiate on the excellencies of his " Clarissa." 478. Introductions and Conclusions. I have heard Sir Joshua repeat a speech which the Doctor made about the time of his writing the " Idler," and in which he gave himself credit in two particulars : — " There are two things," said he, " which I am confident I can do very well : one is, an introduction to any literary work, stating what it is to contain, and how it should be executed in the most perfect manner ; the other is a con- clusion, showing, from various causes, why the execution has not been equal to what the author promised to him* self and to the public." x 2 308 JOHNSONIANA. 479. Tea. Johnson's extraordinary, or rather extravagant, fondness for tea did not fail to excite notice wherever he went ; and it is related, though not by Boswell, that whilst on his Scottish tour, and spending some time at Dunvegan, the dowager Lady Macleod having repeatedly helped him, until she had poured out sixteen cups, she then asked him, if a small basin would not save him trouble and be more agreeable ? — "I wonder, Madam," answered he roughly, " why all the ladies ask me such questions. It is to save yourselves trouble, Madam, and not me." The lady was silent, and resumed her task. 480. " A completely wicked Man." Dr. Johnson being in company with Sir Joshua and his sister, Miss Reynolds, and the conversation turning on mo- rality, Sir Joshua said, he did not think there was in the world any man completely wicked. Johnson answered, " I do not know what you mean by completely wicked." " I mean," returned Sir Joshua, " a man lost to all sense of shame." Dr. Johnson replied, that " to be completely wicked, a man must be also lost to all sense of conscience." Sir Joshua said, he thought it was exactly the same ; he could see no difference. "What!" said Johnson, "can you see no difference ? I am ashamed to hear you, or any body utter such nonsense, when the one relates to men only, the other to God ! " Miss Reynolds then observed, that when shame was lost, conscience was nearly gone. Johnson agreed that her conclusion was very just. 481. Richardson on Painting. Dr. Johnson knew nothing of the art of painting, either in theory or practice ; which is one proof that he could not be the author of Sir Joshua's " Discourses :" indeed, his imperfect sight was some excuse for his total ignorance in that department of study. One day, being at dinner at Sir Joshua's, in company with many painters, in the course of conversation Richardson's " Treatise on Painting" NORTHCOTE. 309 happened to be mentioned: "Ah!" said Johnson, "I remember, when I was at college, I by chance found that book on my stairs : I took it up with me to my chamber, and read it through, and truly I did not think it possible to say so much upon the art." Sir Joshua, who could not hear distinctly, desired of one of the company to be in- formed what Johnson had said ; and it being repeated to him so loud that Johnson heard it, the Doctor seemed hurt, and added, " But I did not wish, Sir, that Sir Joshua should have been told what I then said." The latter speech of Johnson denotes a delicacy in him, and an unwillingness to offend ; and it evinces a part of his cha- racter which he has not had the credit of having ever possessed. 482. " Venice Preserved." One day, Johnson and Goldsmith meeting at Sir Joshua Reynolds's table, the conversation turned on the merits of Otway's "Venice Preserved," which Goldsmith highly extolled ; asserting that of all tragedies it was the one nearest in excellence to Shakspeare : when Johnson, in his peremptory manner, contradicted him, and pronounced that there were not forty good lines to be found in the whole play ; adding, " Pooh ! what stuff are these lines ! " What feminine tales hast thou been listening to, Of unair'd sheets, catarrh, and toothach, got By thin-soled shoes ? " "True!" replied Goldsmith; "to be sure, that is very like Shakspeare." 483. Criticisms on Goldsmith. Soon after Goldsmith's death, some people dining with Sir Joshua were commenting rather freely on some part of his works, which, in their opinion, neither discovered talent nor originality. To this Dr. Johnson listened, in his usual growling manner, for some time ; when, at length, his patience being exhausted, he rose with great dignity, looked them full in the face, and exclaimed, " If x 3 810 JOHNSONIANA. nobody were suffered to abuse poor Goldy but those who could write as well, he would have few censors." 484. Portrait of Johnson reading. In 177<5> Sir Joshua painted that portrait of his friend Johnson, which represents him as reading and near-sighted. This was very displeasing to the Doctor, who, when he saw it, reproved Sir Joshua for painting him in that manner and attitude ; saying, " Tt is not friendly to hand down to posterity the imperfections of any man." But on the con- trary, Sir Joshua esteemed it as a circumstance in nature to be remarked, as characterising the person represented, and therefore as giving additional value to the portrait. 485. Johnson's Pride. Of Johnson's pride, I have heard Sir Joshua himself observe, that if any man drew him into a state of obliga- tion without his own consent, that man was the first he would affront, by way of clearing off the account. 486. Trip to Plymouth. — Clouted Cream and Cider. Reynolds's trip to Plymouth, accompanied by Dr. Johnson, took place in 1762 : when, during a visit to a neighbouring gentleman, Johnson's irregularity of conduct produced considerable alarm in the mind of their host ; who, in order to gratify his guests, had placed before them every delicacy which the house afforded. On this occasion the Doctor, who seldom showed much discretion in his feeding, devoured so large a quantity of new honey and of clouted cream, which is peculiar to Devonshire, besides drinking large potations of new cider, that the entertainer found himself much embarrassed between his anxious regard for the Doctor's health, and his fear of breaking through the rules of politeness, by giving him a hint on the subject. The strength of Johnson's con- stitution, however, saved him from any unpleasant con- sequences which might have been expected. NORTHCOTE. 311 487. Farmer on Shakspeare. Dr. Farmer, of Cambridge, had written a most excellent and convincing pamphlet, to prove that Shakspeare knew little or nothing- of the ancients but by translations. Being in company with Dr. Johnson, he received from him the following compliment upon the work : "Dr. Farmer, you have done that which never was done before ; that is, you have completely finished a controversy beyond all further doubt." " I thank you," answered Dr. Farmer, " for your flattering opinion of my work, but still think there are some critics who will adhere to their old opinions, — certain persons that I could name." "Ah!" said Johnson, "that may be true; for the limbs will quiver and move after the soul is gone." 488. Johnson and Peter Pindar. Dr. Walcot, in a letter addressed to me, says, — ■ " Happening to be in company with Dr. Johnson, and observing to him, that his portrait by Reynolds was not sufficiently dignified — prepared with a flat contradiction, he replied, in a kind of bull-dog growl, * No, Sir ! the pencil of Reynolds never wanted dignity nor the graces.'" 489. " Peter Paid Rubens." James MacArdell, the mezzotinto engraver, having taken a very good print from the portrait of Rubens, came with it one morning to Sir Joshua Reynolds, to inquire if he could inform him particularly of the many titles to which Rubens had a right, in order to inscribe them properly under his print ; saying, he believed that Rubens had been knighted by the kings of France, Spain, and England ; was secretary of state in Flanders, and to the privy seal in Spain ; and had been employed in a mi- nisterial capacity from the court of Madrid to the court of London, to negotiate a treaty of peace between the two crowns ; and that he was also a magistrate of Antwerp, &c. Dr. Johnson, happening to be in the room with Sir x 4 812 JOHNSONIANA. Joshua at the time, and understanding MacArdell's inquiry, interfered rather abruptly, saying, "Pooh! pooh ! put his name alone under the print, * Peter Paul Rubens : ' that is full sufficient, and more than all the rest." This advice of the Doctor was accordingly followed. 490. Compliments. At the time that Miss Linley was in the highest esteem as a public singer, Dr. Johnson came in the evening to drink tea with Miss Reynolds ; and when he entered the room, she said to him, " See, Dr. Johnson, what a pre- ference I give to your company ; for I had an offer of a place in a box at the Oratorio, to hear Miss Linley ; but I would rather sit with you than hear Miss Linley sing." " And I, Madam," replied Johnson, " would rather sit with you than sit upon a throne." The Doctor would not be surpassed even in a trifling compliment. 491. Learned Ladies. Several ladies being in company with Dr. Johnson, it was remarked by one of them, that a learned woman was by no means a rare character in the present age ; when Johnson replied, " I have known a great many ladies who knew Latin, but very few who knew English." A lady observed, that women surpassed men in epistolary corre- spondence. Johnson said, " I do not know that." " At least," said the lady, " they are most pleasing when they are in conversation." " No, Madam," returned Johnson, " I think they are most pleasing when they hold their tongues." 492. Saying good Things. A friend of Dr. Johnson's, in conversation with him, was lamenting the disagreeable situation in which those persons stood who were eminent for their witticisms, as they were perpetually expected to be saying good things, — that it was a heavy tax on them. "It is, indeed," said Johnson, " a very heavy tax on them ; a tax which no man can pay who does not steal." NORTHCOTE. 313 493. Burke — Sir Joshua Reynolds. Speaking of how much Sir Joshua owed to the writings and conversation of Johnson, Mr.Burke said, that "nothing showed more the greatness of Sir Joshua's parts, than his taking advantage of both, and making some application of them to his profession, when Johnson neither under- stood, nor desired to understand, any thing of painting, and had no distinct idea of its nomenclature, even in those parts which had got most into use in common life." 314 JOHNSONIANA, Part XXII. ANECDOTES, BY ANNA SEWARD. (') 494. Johnson's "Beauties " Love is the great softener of savage dispositions. Johnson had always a metaphysic passion for one princess or other : first, the rustic Lucy Porter, before he married her nauseous mother ; next, the handsome, but haughty, Molly Aston ; next, the sublimated, methodistic, Hill Boothby, who read her bible in Hebrew ; and, lastly, the more charming Mrs. Thrale, with the beauty of the first, the learning of the second, and with more worth than a bushel of such sinners and such saints. It is ridiculously diverting to see the old elephant forsaking his nature before these princesses — " To make them mirth, use all his might, and writhe, His mighty form disporting." This last and long-enduring passion for Mrs. Thrale was, however, composed equally, perhaps, of cupboard love, Platonic love, and vanity tickled and gratified, from morn to night, by incessant homage. The two first ingre- dients are certainly oddly heterogeneous ; but Johnson, in religion and politics, in love and in hatred, was composed (1) [From " Letters of Anna Seward, written between the years 1784 and 1807."] ANNA SEWARD. 315 of such opposite and contradictory materials, as never before met in the human mind. This is the reason why folk are never weary of talking, reading, and writing about a man — i( So various, that he seem'd to be Not one, but all mankind's epitome/' 495. Johnson 9 s Courtship. I have often heard my mother say she perfectly remem- bered Johnson's wife. He has recorded of her that beauty which existed only in his imagination. She had a very red face, and very indifferent features ; and her manners in advanced life — for her children were all grown up when Johnson first saw her — had an unbecoming excess of girlish levity, and disgusting affectation. The rustic prettiness and artless manners of her daughter, the present Mrs. Lucy Porter, had won Johnson's youthful heart, when she was upon a visit at my grandfather's, in John- son's school-days. Disgusted by his unsightly form, she had a personal aversion to him. Business taking Johnson to Birmingham, on the death of his own father, and call- ing upon his coy mistress there, he found her father dying. He passed all his leisure hours at Mr. Porter's, attending his sick-bed, and, in a few months after his death, asked Mrs. Johnson's consent to marry the old widow. After expressing her surprise at a request so extraordinary — " No, Sam, my willing consent you will never have to so preposterous a match. You are not twenty-five, and she is turned of fifty. If she had any prudence, this request had never been made to me. Where are your means of subsistence ? Porter has died poor, in consequence of his wife's expensive habits. You have great talents, but, as yet, have turned them into no profitable channel." "Mother, I have not deceived Mrs. Porter : I have told her the worst of me ; that I am of mean extraction, that I have no money, and that I have had an uncle hanged." She replied, that she valued no one more or less for his descent ; that she had no more money than myself; and that, though she had not had a relation hanged, she had fifty who deserved 316 JOHNSONIANA. hanging." And thus became accomplished this very cu- rious amour. (*) 496. Miss Elizabeth Aston. The following is the conversation that passed between Dr. Johnson and myself in company, on the subject of Miss Elizabeth Aston, of Stowe-hill, with whom he always passed so much time when he was in Lichfield, and for whom he professed so great a friendship : — Seward. " I have often heard my mother say, Doctor, that Mrs. Elizabeth Aston was, in her youth, a very beautiful wo- man ; and that, with all the consciousness and spiteful spleen of a very bad temper, she had great powers of pleas- ing ; that she was lively and insinuating. I knew her not till the vivacity of her youth had long been extin- guished ; and I confess I looked in vain for the traces of former ability. I wish to have your opinion of what she was — you, who knew her so well in her best days." Johnson. " My dear, when thy mother told thee Aston was handsome, thy mother told thee truth : she was very handsome. When thy mother told thee that Aston loved to abuse her neighbours, she told thee truth ; but when thy mother told thee that Aston had any marked ability in that same abusive business, that wit gave it zest, or ima- gination colour, thy mother did not tell thee truth. No, no, Madam, Aston's understanding was not of any strength, either native or acquired." Seward. " But, Sir, I have heard you say, that her sister's husband, Mr. Walmesley, was a man of bright parts, and extensive knowledge ; that (1) [This account was given to Mr. Boswell ; who, as Miss Seward could not have known it of her own knowledge, asked the lady for her authority. Miss Seward, in reply, quoted Mrs. Cobb, an old friend of Johnson's, who resided at Lichfield. To her, then, Boswell addressed himself; and, to his equal satisfac- tion and surprise, was answered that Mrs. Cobb had not only never told such a story, but that she had not even ever heard of it. Notwithstanding this denial, Miss Seward persisted in her story to the last. The report as to the hanging was probably derived from a coarse passage in the Rev. Donald M'Nicol's Remarks on Dr. Johnson's Journey to the Hebrides : — " But, whatever the Doctor may insinuate about the present scarcity of trees in Scotland, we are much deceived by fame if a very near ancestor of his, who was a native of that country, did not find to his cost, that a tree was not quite such a rarity in his days." That some Scotch- man, of the name of Johnston, may have been hanged in the seventeeth century, is very likely ; but there seems no reason whatsoever to believe that any of Dr. Johnson's family were natives of Scotland. — C] faM 60* t-VpiJ** y 0^- €/n 'f *■/ *■ ^ ^^ £ "fie/to. vut/K. from Bennet Langton to Mr. Parr : — " Yesterday morning Mr. Paradise and I went to Bolt Court ; and it is, I assure you, but doing justice to Dr. Johnson's expressions, on our application, to say, that nothing could be more friendly than they were. He said he knew of few, if of any, that were so well entitled to success as yourself in an application for pre- siding over a seminary of education ; and expressed the opinion of your possessing all the kinds of learning requisite for that purpose, in very high terms of praise." 506. Parr's Projected Life of Johnson, For many years I spent a month's holidays in London, and never failed to call upon Johnson. I was not only admitted, but welcomed. I conversed with him upon numberless subjects of learning, politics, and common life. I traversed the whole compass of his understanding ; (1) [Nos. 505 — 516. of these anecdotes are selected from the Life and Works of Parr, in eight vols. 8vo. 1828 ; edited by Dr. John Johnstone.] DR. PARR. 327 and, by the acknowledgment of Burke and Reynolds, I distinctly understood the peculiar and transcendent proper- ties of his mighty and virtuous mind. I intended to write his life ; I laid by sixty or seventy books for the purpose of writing it in such a manner as would do no discredit to myself. I intended to spread my thoughts over two volumes quarto ; and if I had filled three pages, the rest would have followed. Often have I lamented my ill fortune in not building this monument to the fame of Johnson, and let me not be accused of arrogance when I add, my own ! (*) 507. " Rasselas." Dr. Young said of Johnson's "Rasselas," that " it was a mass of sense." 508. Truth. The following passage, from Johnson's character of Zachary Mudge, unites the true spirit of Christianity with the soundest wisdom : — " By a solicitous examination of objections, and judicious comparison of opposite argu- ments, he attained what inquiry never gives but to industry and perspicuity, — a firm and unshaken settlement of con- viction. But his firmness was without asperity ; for, knowing with how much difficulty truth was sometimes found, he did not wonder that many missed it." The truth of the concluding sentence will be felt by every man of deep reflection ; and well does it become those who are not in the habit of reflecting deeply, to weigh its moral and religious importance in mitigating their prejudices, and in restraining their invectives, upon certain difficult and momentous subjects. Glad should I be if this opinion of Johnson's were, in Johnson's words, written, like the motto of Capaneus, " in golden letters," and hung up, not only in every dissenting academy, but in every hall of (1) [Dr. Parr has recorded the same sentiment in the note prefixed to the list of the thirty-four works which he had set apart to consult in his projected Life of Dr. Johnson : — " He will ever have to lament that, amidst his cares, his sorrows, and his anxiety, he did not write the life of his learned and revered friend. "— Bib. Parr, p. 7 1 6. ] y 4 328 JOHNSONIANA. every college in those two noble seminaries which, as Mil- ton says of Athens and Sparta, I revere as " the eyes" of this kingdom. 509. TVhig and Tory. To almost every part of Johnson's distinction of a Whig and Tory I assent ; there is no part which does not con- tain judicious remarks and useful information : — " A wise Tory and a wise Whig," he says, " will, I believe, agree. Their principles are the same, though their modes of thinking are different. A high Tory makes govern- ment unintelligible ; it is lost in the clouds. A violent Whig makes it impracticable : 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 estab- lishment ; the prejudice of the Whig is for innovation. A Tory does not wish to give more real power to govern- ment ; but that government should have more reverence. Then they differ 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." 510. Unconscious Similitudes, An instance of unconscious similitude between an ancient and a modern writer occurs at the moment to my memory, and as I have not seen it noticed in any book, you will excuse me for producing it : — " Gray, says Johnson, "in his odes, has a kind of strutting dignity, and is tall by walking on tiptoe." We meet with a simi- lar thought in Quintilian : — " Prima est eloquentise virtus, perspicuitas : et quo quisque ingenio minus valet, hoc se magis attollere et dilatare conatur ; ut statura breves in digitos eriguntur, et plura infirmi minantur." I will add another instance. Johnson said of Lord Chesterfield, " He is a wit among lords, and a lord among wits." But he remembered not that Pope had written — "A wit with dunces, and a dunce with wits." DR. PARR. 329 Neither of them, perhaps, was conscious that Quintilian had long ago said — " Qui stultis eruditi videri volunt, eruditis stulti videntur." 511. Johnson described by Gregory Nazianzen. The following lines I long ago read and marked in the " Anecdota Grseca," by Muratorius, as descriptive of Johnson's benevolence, of his ready powers in con- versation, and of the instruction it conveyed to his hearers : — '£1 [kolkol^ cp l»uvov 7rsvi7}g axog, w 7rrep6svrsg M.uSoi, xou 7TYiyr] woifriv apuofAevr), "Aa-QfI.Ot.Tl 7TOLUTOL XfVs^ TTU/XCtTO). These lines were written by Gregory Nazianzen upon Amphilochus ; and however untractable they may be in the hands of an epitaph writer, they might be managed with success by such a biographer as Johnson deserves, and perhaps has hitherto not had. 512. English Universities, There are men to whom such an opponent as Dr. Johnson, upon such a topic as the honour of Cambridge and Oxford, might have been an object both of " terror and esteem." Now, in a paper in the Idler, Johnson has employed quite as good sense, in quite as good English, for the credit of our universities, as Gibbon has since misemployed for their discredit. " If literature," says he, " is not the essential requisite of the modern academic, I am yet persuaded that Cambridge and Oxford, however degenerated, surpass the fashionable academies of our metropolis, and the gymnasia of foreign countries. The number of learned persons in these celebrated seats is still considerable ; and more conveniences and oppor- tunities for study still subsist in them, than in any other place. There is, at least, one very powerful incentive to learning — I mean the genius of the place. This is a sort of inspiring deity, which every youth of quick sensi- bility and ingenuous disposition creates to himself, by 330 JOHNSONIANA. reflecting that he is placed under those venerable walls where a Hooker and a Hammond, a Bacon and a Newton, once pursued the same course of science, and from whence they soared to the most elevated heights of literary fame. This is that incitement which Tully, according to his own testimony, experienced at Athens, when he contemplated the portico where Socrates sat, and the laurel-grove where Plato disputed. But, there are other circumstances, and of the highest importance, which make our colleges superior to all places of education. These institutions, though somewhat fallen from their primary simplicity, are such as influence, in a particular manner, the moral conduct of their youths ; and, in this general depravity of manners and laxity of principles, pure religion is no where more strongly inculcated. English universities render their students virtuous, at least by excluding all oppor- tunities of vice; and, by teaching them the principles of the church of England, confirm them in those of true Christianity." I had reached nearly the end of my observ- ations on Mr. Gibbon, before the sentiments of Dr. Johnson occurred to my mind. I am too discreet, too honest, and perhaps too proud, to be intentionally guilty of plagiarism from any writer whatsoever. But, I am too ingenuous to dissemble the sincere and exquisite satisfac- tion that I feel, upon finding that my opinions, and even my own words, on the encouragement of learning, the preservation of morals, and the influence of religion, cor- respond so nearly with the opinions and the words of such an observer as Dr. Johnson, upon such a question as the merits of the English universities. 513. Literary Merit. By the testimony of such a man as Johnson, imper- tinence must be abashed, and malignity itself must be softened. Of literary merit, as we all know, he was a sagacious, but a most severe judge. Such was his dis- cernment, that he pierced into the most secret springs of human actions ; and such was his integrity, that he always weighed the moral characters of his fellow crea- tures in the " balance of the sanctuary. " He was too DR. PARR. 331 courageous to propitiate a rival, and too proud to truckle to a superior. 514. Johnson's Funeral. In a letter from Charles Burney, the younger, to Dr. Parr, dated Dec. £1. 1784, he says, — - " Yesterday 1 followed our ever to be lamented friend, Dr. Johnson, to his last mansion : < Non omnis moriar — multaque pars mei vitabit Libitinam' — should be engraven on his stone. He died with the same piety with which he lived ; and bestowed much pains during his last illness in endea- vouring to convince some of his friends, who were in doubt, about the truth of the Christian religion. He has left behind him a collection of small Latin compositions in verse. They are principally translations of collects and Greek epigrams. He was followed to the Abbey by a large troop of friends. Ten mourning coaches were ordered by the executors for those invited. Besides these, eight of his friends or admirers clubbed for two more carriages, in one of which I had a seat. But the executor, Sir John Hawkins, did not manage things well, for there was no anthem or choir service performed — no lesson — but merely what is read over every old woman that is buried by the parish. Surely, surely, my dear Sir, this was wrong, very wrong. Dr. Taylor read the service — but so-so. (') He lies nearly under Shakspeare's monu- ment, with Garrick at his right hand, just opposite the monument erected not long ago for Goldsmith by him and some of his friends. 515. Parr on Johnson's Churchmanship. " It is dangerous to be of no church," said Dr. Johnson — who believed and revered his Bible, and who saw through all the proud and shallow pretences of that which calls itself liberality, and of that which is not genuine philosophy. (1) [Dr. Parr, in a letter to Dr. Charles Burney, written in Nov. 1789, says, " Did you go to Sir Joshua Reynolds's funeral ? I hope he had a complete service, not mutilated and dimidiated, as it was for poor Johnson at the Abbey — which is a great reproach to the lazy cattle who loll in the stalls there."] 332 JOHNSONIANA. 516. Parr on Johnson's Death. He was a writer, in whom religion and learning have lost one of their brightest ornaments, and whom it is not an act of adulation or presumption to represent as sum- moned to that reward, which the noblest talents, exercised uniformly for the most useful purposes, cannot fail to attain. 517. Greek Accents. (') Dr. Johnson, in his conversation with Dr. Parr, re- peatedly and earnestly avowed his opinion, that accents ought not to be omitted by any editor of Greek authors, or any modern writers of Greek verse, or Greek prose. 518. Bishop Pearce.( 2 ) That Dr. Parr obtained, at an early period, a place in the good opinion of Dr. Johnson, appears from the cir- cumstance, that to his powerful recommendation Dr. Parr was chiefly indebted for his appointment to the mastership of the Norwich Grammar School. Indeed, he has often been heard to speak of their friendly interviews, even before that time ; of which one instance occurs to me. This was in 1777> when Bishop Pearce's " Commentary, with Notes, on the Four Gospels " was published, to which the well-known " Dedication," written by Dr. Johnson, was prefixed. Calling soon afterwards upon him, Dr. Parr mentioned that he had been reading, with great delight, his dedication to the king. "My dedication ! " exclaimed Dr. Johnson, " how do you know it is mine ?" " For two reasons," replied Dr. Parr : " the first, because it is worthy of you ; the second, because you only could write it." 519. Johnson's Monument. When it was determined to erect a monument of John- son in St. Paul's Cathedral, the task of composing the inscription was assigned, by the public wish and voice, to Dr. Parr ; who, however, on its first proposal, shrank (1) [Communicated by Dr. John Johnstone.] (2) [Nos. 518. and 519. from "Field's Memoirs of Dr. Parr."] DR. PARR. 333 with awe from the arduous undertaking. In writing to a friend, he thus expresses himself: — "I must leave this mighty task to some hardier and some abler hand. The variety and the splendour of Johnson's attainments, the peculiarity of his character, his private virtues, and his literary publications, fill me with confusion and dis- may, when I reflect on the confined and difficult species of composition, in which alone they can be expressed on his monument." On another occasion, speaking on the same subject — " I once intended to write Johnson's Life ; and I had read through three shelves of books to prepare myself for it. It would have contained a view of the literature of Europe : and," — making an apology for the proud consciousness which he felt of his own ability — "if I had written it," continued he, "it would have been the third most learned work that has ever yet appeared." To explain himself, he afterwards added, " The most learned work ever written, I consider Bentley * On the Epistles of Phalaris ; ' the next, Salmasius * On the Hellenistic Language.'" On a third occasion, describing the nature of his intended work, and alluding to Boswell, he said, "Mine should have been, not the drippings of his lips, but the history of his mind." 520. Imitations of Juvenal. ( ] ) Dr. Parr spoke with unbounded favour of Johnson's imitations of Juvenal. The lines in the third satire, — " Tanti tibi non sit opaci, Omnis arena Tagi, quodque in mare volvitur aurum, Ut somno careas," — he was fond of quoting, with Johnson's amplification of the sentiment : — " But thou, should tempting villany present All Marlborough hoarded, or all Villiers spent, Turn from the glittering bribe thy scornful eye, Nor sell for gold what gold will never buy — The peaceful slumber, self- approving day, Unsullied fame, and conscience ever gay." (1) This and the two next articles are from " Recollections of Dr. Parr, by a Pupil" (the late Charles Marsh). — New Monthly Mag. vol. xvii. 334< JOHNSONIANA. 521. Preface to Shakspeare. The Preface to Shakspeare Dr. Parr considered John- son's most eloquent prose composition ; and he delighted in quoting" that fine passage, where Johnson, at the close of his attack upon the doctrine of the Unities, says, " But when I think of the great authorities that are ranged on the other side, I am almost tempted to retire from the contest ; as iEneas withdrew from the siege of Troy, when he saw Neptune shaking the walls, and Juno heading the besiegers." 522. Music. Talking once with Dr. Parr on the subject of dedica- tions, in a friend's library, he desired me to take down the first volume of Burney's History of Music, and to read to him the dedication of that work to the queen. " There," said he, " there is the true refinement of compliment, without adulation. In the short compass of a few lines are comprised no small degree of the force, and nearly all the graces and the harmonies, of the English language. But Burney did not write it : Johnson wrote it ; and on this, as on other occasions, showed himself an accom- plished courtier. Jemmy Boswell ought to have known that Johnson wrote it. / had it from good authority ; besides, it is Johnson's internally. How truly Johnsonian is the following passage : — ' The science of musical sounds has been depreciated as appealing only to the ear, and affording nothing more than a fugitive and temporary delight ; but it may justly be considered as the art which unites corporal with intellectual pleasure, by a species of enjoyment which gratifies sense, without weakening rea- son ; and which, therefore, the great may cultivate without debasement, and the good may enjoy without depravation.'" 523. Adventurer, No. 87. ( ] ) The following observations were dictated to me by Dr. Parr, as he was one evening calmly smoking his pipe in my study. I was telling him, that two of our common (1) [From " Parriana," by E. H. Barker, Esq., vol. i. p. 472.] DR. PARR. 335 friends had decided from internal evidence, that No. 87. in that work was not written by Warton, as the signature Z. indicated, but by Johnson. " Reach your * Adventurer' from the shelves," said the Doctor, " and read the paper to me." When I had done so he said, " Now sit down, and write on the blank leaf of the volume what I shall dictate to you ; and remember never to part with that book, nor suffer the leaf, which you have written, to be torn out, but pre- serve it as a memorial of your cordial and sincere friend, when I shall be numbered with the dead." What the Doctor dictated is as follows : — " May 19. 1808. Num- ber 87. of the ' Adventurer' was written by Johnson, not by Dr. Warton. It has internal evidence sufficient to show who was, and who was not, the writer. Instead of T. the signature of Johnson, Z., the signature of Warton, was by an error of the press inserted in the earlier editions, and has since continued. Boswell, when collecting John- son's papers in the * Adventurer,' looked only to the signature T. ; and not finding it to No. 87., he did not assign that paper to Johnson. Warton was more likely to keep a good account than Johnson. Dr. Wooll, in his Life of Warton, does not include No. 87. among the papers written by Warton, Dr. Parr, who gave me this information in May 1808, was quite satisfied with the in- ternal evidence as supplied by the style and the matter. Boswell's silence proves nothing except his want of vigi- lance, or his want of acuteness ; but Wooll's silence is decisive, more especially as Boswell has left the paper open to a claim from Dr. Warton, who happily had too much honour to appropriate the composition of another man." 524. First Interview with Johnson. (') We talked of Johnson. Dr. Parr said, he had once begun to write a life of him; and if he had continued it, it would have been the best thing he had ever written. " I should have related not only every thing important about Johnson, but many things about the men who flourished at the same time ;" adding, with an expression (1) [This and the next article are from a paper entitled " Two Days with Dr. Parr," in Blackwood's Mag. vol. xvii. p. 599.] 336 JOHNSONIANA. of sly humour, " taking care, at the same time, to display my own learning." He said, Dr. Johnson was an ad- mirable scholar, and that he would have had a high reputation for more learning, if his reputation for intellect and eloquence had not overshadowed it ; the classical scholar was forgotten in the great original contributor to the literature of his country. One of the company reminded him of his first interview with Dr. Johnson, as related by Mr. Langton in Boswell's account of his life. After the interview was over, Dr. Johnson said, "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 without meeting with any instance of this kind of open discussion." To this remark Dr. Parr replied with great vehemence, " / remember the interview well : I gave him no quarter. The subject of our dispute was the liberty of the press. Dr. Johnson was very great : whilst he was arguing, I observed that he stamped. Upon this I stamped. Dr. Johnson said, 'Why did you stamp, Dr. Parr ? ' I replied, ' Sir, because you stamped ; and I was resolved not to give you the advantage even of a stamp in the argument.' ' It is im- possible to do justice to his description of this scene ; the vehemence, the characteristic pomposity, with which it was accompanied, may easily be imagined by those who knew him, but cannot be adequately represented to those who did not. 5%5. Johnson? s "Prayers and Meditations" ( l ) Permit me (says Dr. Parr), as a friend to the cause of virtue and religion, to recommend most earnestly to read- ers of every class the serious perusal of Dr. Johnson's " Prayers and Meditations," lately published. They mark, by the most unequivocal and vivid proofs, the sin- cerity of his faith, the fervour of his devotion, and the warmth of his benevolence : they are equally intelligible, and equally instructive, to the learned and the unlearned ; they will animate the piety of the Christian, and put to (1) [From the Gentleman's Magazine, vol. lv. p. 675.] DR. PARR. 337 shame the coldness and obduracy of the proud philoso- pher ; they show at once the weakness and the strength of Johnson's mind ; but that weakness melts every atten- tive reader into compassion, and that strength impresses him with veneration. He that possesses both integrity of principle, and tenderness of feeling — he that admires virtue, and reveres religion — he that glows with the love of mankind, and reposes his trust in God — will himself become a wiser and a better man from contemplating those thoughts which passed in the mind of one of the wisest and the best of men, when he communed with his own heart, and poured forth his supplications before the throne of Heaven for mercy and for grace. 3SS Part XXIV. ANECDOTES AND REMARKS, BY JOSEPH BARETTI. 526. Acquaintance with Johnson, (*) My connection with Dr. Johnson, though quite close and quite familiar, during a great number of years, was never- theless, like every other intimacy, subject at intervals to the vicissitudes of coincidence and discrepance in opinion ; not that I ever dreamt of any equality between our powers of pronouncing judgment in ambiguous and questionable cases, but in mere consequence of that untoward cast of mind which often makes this and that and t'other object appear to Mr. Joseph of such a form, of such a size, of such and such a quality, when Mr. Samuel conceives them all to be greatly different, if not the absolute reverse. Not unfrequently, therefore, were our debates on divers topics, now of more, now of less, importance. To them, and to a multitude of disquisitions I heard from him on innumerable matters, I am indebted for the best part of that little knowledge I have ; and if there is any kind of rectitude and fidelity in my ideas, I will ever remember, with gratitude as well as pride, that I owe more of it to him and to his books, than to any other man I ever knew, or any other books I ever studied. However, in spite (1) [From Baretti's "Strictures on Signora Piozzi's publication of Dr. Johnson's Letters."] BARETTI. 339 of my obsequiousness to his great superiority, and my ready submission to most of his dictates, never could I impli- citly adopt some few of his principal notions and leading opinions, though ever so ardently desirous of conforming all mine to those of a man, whose innate and acquired faculties, as far as my judgment reaches, were never equalled by any of his most far-famed contemporaries. One of the points on which my friend and I most widely differed, and most frequently disputed, especially during the last seven or eight years of his life, was certainly that of his Mistress's excellence, or no excellence ; and every body knows that his Mistress, as he emphatically called her, was my pretty Hester Lynch, alias Mrs. Thrale, alias La Piozzi. 527. Johnson and the Thrales. The Signora Piozzi says, that " while she remained at Streatham or at London, her carriage and servants were not entirely at her command," but at Johnson's. But, in the name of goodness, had she not told us, in her " Anec- dotes," that " the Doctor wanted as little as the gods, and required less attendance, sick or well, than she ever saw any human creature?" It is a fact, not to be denied, that, when at Streatham or in the Borough, Johnson wanted nothing else from her servants, than to be shaved once in three days, as he was almost beardless ; and as for her carriage, never once during the whole time of their acquaintance did he borrow, much less command it, for any purpose of his own. Either she in hers, or Mr. Thrale in his, took him from town to Streatham without the least inconvenience to either ; and he was brought back generally on Saturdays by Mr. Thrale, who repaired every day to the Borough about his affairs presently after break- fast. When Johnson went to them or from them in town, he constantly made use of an hackney, and would have been greatly offended had Madam ever offered to order the horses out of the stable on his sole account. True it is, that Johnson was not lavish of his money when he began to have any to save, but he scorned to be considered as oversaving it \ and of this we have a pretty lively proof, z 2 340 JOHNSONIANA. p. 38. vol. ii. of his Letters, where he rebukes Mr. Thrale for wishing to have him brought to Brighthelm stone by Dr. Burney, that he might not be at the expense of a post-chaise or of the stage-coach : " Burney is to bring me," says Johnson. " Pray why so ? Is it not as fit that I should bring Burney ? My Master is in his ' old limes,' and so am I." This asperity of language proves how ticklish Johnson was on the most distant supposition that he grudged expense when necessary. It is not true, that Dr. Johnson " would often not rise till twelve, and oblige her to make breakfast for him till the bell rang for dinner." It is a constant fact, that, during Johnson's acquaintance with the Thrale family, he got the habit of rising as early as other folks, nor ever made Mr. Thrale stay a single moment for his breakfast, knowing that his business called him away from the breakfast table about ten o'clock every morning, except Sundays ; nor had Mr. Thrale quitted the table a moment but the Doctor swallowed his last cup, and Madam was at liberty to go about her hens and turkeys, leaving him to chat with me or any body else that happened to be there, or go up in his room, which was more usual, from whence he did not stir till dinner-time. Johnson's austere reprimands and unrestrained up- braidings, when face to face with Madam, always de- lighted Mr. Thrale, and were approved even by her children : and I remember to this purpose a piece of mortification she once underwent by a trait de naivete of poor little Harry, some months before he died. " Harry," said his father to him, on entering the room, " are you listening to what the Doctor and mamma are about f" "Yes, papa," answered the boy. "And," quoth Mr. Thrale, " what are they saying ?" " They are disputing," replied Harry; "but mamma has just such a chance against Dr. Johnson, as Presto would have if he were to fight Dash." Dash was a large dog, and Presto but a little one. The laugh this innocent observation produced was so very loud and hearty, that Madam, unable to stand it, quitted the room in such a mood as was still more laughable than the boy's pertinent remark, though she BARETTI. 341 muttered " it was very impertinent." However, a short turn in the pleasure-ground soon restored her to her usual elasticity, made her come back to give us tea, and the puny powers of Presto were mentioned no more. 528. Baretti's Rupture with Br. Johnson. Q) My story may be a lesson to eager mortals to mistrust the duration of any worldly enjoyment ; as even the best cemented friendship, which 1 consider as the most precious of earthly blessings, is but a precarious one, and subject, like all the rest, to be blasted away in an unexpected moment, by the capriciousness of chance, and by some one of those trifling weaknesses, unaccountably engrafted even in the noblest minds that ever showed to what a pitch human nature may be elevated. About thirteen months before Dr. Johnson went the way of all flesh, my visits to him grew to be much less frequent than they used to be, on account of my gout and other infirmities, which permitted not my going very often from Edward Street, Cavendish Square, to Bolt Court, Fleet Street, as it had been the case in my better days ; yet, once or twice every month, I never failed to go to him, and he was always glad to see " the oldest friend he had in the world ; " which, since Garrick's death, was the appellation he honoured me with, and constantly requested me to see him as often as I could. One day — and, alas ! it was the last time I saw him- — I called on him, not without some anxiety, as I had heard that he had been very ill ; but found him so well as to be in very high spirits ; of which he soon made me aware, because, the conversation happening to turn about Otaheite, he recollected that Orniah had often conquered me at chess ; a subject on which, whenever chance brought it about, he never failed to rally me most unmercifully, and made himself mighty merry with. This time, more than he had ever done before, he pushed his banter on at such a rate, that at last he chafed me, and made me so angry, that, not being able to put a stop to it, I snatched up my hat and stick, and (1) [From "Tolondron: Speeches to John Bowie, about his edition of Don Quixote," 1786.] z 3 342 JOHNSONIANA. quitted him in a most choleric mood. The skilful trans- lator of Tasso, Mr. Hoole, who was a witness to that ridi- culous scene, may tell whether the Doctor's obstreperous merriment deserved approbation or blame ; but, such was Johnson, that, whatever was the matter in hand, if he was in the humour, he would carry it as far as he could ; nor was he much in the habit, even with much higher folks than myself, to refrain from sallies which, not seldom, would carry him further than he intended. Vexed at his having given me cause to be angry, and at my own anger too, I was not in haste to see him again ; and he heard, from more than one, that my resentment continued. Finding, at last, or supposing, that I might not call upon him any more, he requested a respectable friend to tell me that he would be glad to see me as soon as possible ; but this message was delivered me while making ready to go into Sussex, where I staid a month longer ; and it was on my leaving Sussex, that the newspapers apprised me my friend was no more, and England had lost possibly the greatest of her literary ornaments. (*) (1) [The interesting memoir of Baretti, in the Gentleman's Magazine for May, 1789, drawn up by Dr. Vincent, concludes thus: — " It was not distress that compelled Baretti to take refuge in the hospitality of Mr. Thrale, as has been suggested. He had lately received five hundred pounds for his Spanish " Travels," but was induced by Dr. Johnson (contrary to his own determination, of never becoming a teacher of languages) to undertake the instruction of Mr. Thrale's daughters in Italian. He was either nine or eleven years almost entirely in that family, though he still rented a lodging in town ; during which period he expended his own five hundred pounds, and received nothing in return for his instruction, but the participation of a good table, and a hundred and fifty pounds by way of presents. Instead of his "Strictures on Signora Piozzi," had he told this plain unvarnished tale, he would have convicted that lady of avarice and ingratitude, without incurring the danger of a reply, or exposing his memory to be insulted by her advocates."] 343 Part XXV. ANECDOTES AND REMARKS, BY BISHOP PERCY, (i) 529. Stourbridge School. Sir John Hawkins is not correct in saying that Johnson, in early life, had not been accustomed to the conversation of gentlemen. His genius was so distinguished, that, although little more than a schoolboy, he was admitted to the best company, both at Lichfield and Stourbridge ; and, in the latter neighbourhood, had met even with George, afterwards Lord Lyttelton ; with whom having some col- loquial disputes, he is supposed to have conceived that prejudice which so improperly influenced him in the Life of that worthy nobleman. But this could scarcely have happened when he was a boy of fifteen ; and, therefore, it is probable he occasionally visited Stourbridge, during his residence at Birmingham, before he removed to London. 530. Personal Peculiarities, Johnson's countenance, when in a good humour, was not disagreeable. His face clear, his complexion good, and his features not ill formed ; many ladies have thought they might not have been unattractive when he was young. (1) [From communications made by Bishop Percy to Dr. Robert Anderson. z 4 344 JOHNSONIANA. Much misrepresentation has prevailed on this subject, among such as did not personally know him. That he had some whimsical peculiarities of the nature described by Mr. Boswell, is certainly true ; but there is no reason to believe they proceeded from any superstitious motives, wherein religion was concerned : they are rather to be ascribed to the " mental distempers" to which Boswell has so repeatedly alluded. Johnson was so extremely short-sighted, that he had no conception of rural beauties ; and, therefore, it is not to be wondered, that he should prefer the conversation of the metropolis to the silent groves and views of Hampstead and Greenwich ; which, however delightful, he could not see. In his Tour through the Highlands of Scotland, he has somewhere observed, that one mountain was like an- other ; so utterly unconscious Avas he of the wonderful variety of sublime and beautiful scenes those mountains exhibited. I was once present when the case of a gentle- man was mentioned, who, having, with great taste and skill, formed the lawns and plantations about his house into most beautiful landscapes, to complete one part of the scenery, was obliged to apply for leave to a neighbour with whom he was not upon cordial terms ; when Johnson made the following remark, which at once shows what ideas he had of landscape improvement, and how happily he applied the most common incidents to moral instruction. " See how inordinate desires enslave a man ! No desire can be more innocent than to have a pretty garden, yet, indulged to excess, it has made this poor man submit to beg a favour of his enemy." 531. Johnson's Manner of Composing. Johnson's manner of composing has not been rightly understood. He was so extremely short-sighted, from the defect in his eyes, that writing was inconvenient to him ; for, whenever he wrote, he was obliged to hold the paper close to his face. He, therefore, never composed what we call a foul draft on paper of any thing he published, but used to revolve the subject in his mind, and turn and form every period, till he had brought the whole to the highest BISHOP PERCY. 345 correctness and the most perfect arrangement. Then his uncommonly retentive memory enabled him to deliver a whole essay, properly finished, whenever it was called for. I have often heard him humming and forming periods, in low whispers to himself, when shallow observers thought he was muttering prayers, &c. But Johnson is well known to have represented his own practice, in the following pas- sage in his Life of Pope : "Of composition there are different methods. Some employ at once memory and invention ; and, with little intermediate use of the pen, form and polish large masses by continued meditation, and write their productions only when, in their own opinion, they have completed them." 532. Dislike of Swift. The extraordinary prejudice and dislike of Swift, ma- nifested on all occasions by Johnson, whose political opinions coincided exactly with his, has been difficult to account for^ and is therefore attributed to his failing in getting a degree, which Swift might not choose to solicit, for a reason given below. The real cause is believed to be as follows : The Rev. Dr. Madden, who distin- guished himself so laudably by giving premiums to the young students of Dublin College, for which he had raised a fund, by applying for contributions to the nobility and gentry of Ireland, had solicited the same from Swift, when he was sinking into that morbid idiocy which only terminated with his life, and was saving every shilling to found his hospital for lunatics ; but his application was refused with so little delicacy, as left in Dr. Madden a rooted dislike to Swift's character, which he communicated to Johnson, whose friendship he gained on the following occasion : Dr. Madden wished to address some person of high rank, in prose or verse ; and, desirous of having his composition examined and corrected by some writer of superior talents, had been recommended to Johnson, who was at that time in extreme indigence ; and having finished his task, would probably have thought himself well rewarded with a guinea or two, when to his great surprise, Dr. Madden generously slipped ten guineas into 34<6 JOHNSONIANA. his hand. This made such an impression on Johnson, as led him to adopt every opinion of Dr. Madden, and to resent, as warmly as himself, Swift's rough refusal of the contribution ; after which the latter could not decently request any favour from the University of Dublin. 533. The Dictionary. The account of the manner in which Johnson compiled his Dictionary, as given by Mr. Boswell, is confused and erroneous, and a moment's reflection will convince every person of judgment, could not be correct ; for, to write down an alphabetical arrangement of all the words in the English language, and then hunt through the whole compass of English literature for all their different signi- fications, would have taken the whole life of any individual ; but Johnson who, among other peculiarities of his cha- racter, excelled most men in contriving the best means to accomplish any end, devised the following mode for com- pleting his Dictionary, as he himself expressly described to the writer of this account. J He began his task by de- voting his first care to a diligeiK perusal of all such English writers as were most correct in their language, and under every sentence which he meant to quote, he drew a line, and noted in the margin the first letter of the word under which it was to occur. He then delivered these books to his clerks, who transcribed each sentence on a separate slip of paper, and arranged the same under the word referred to. By these means he collected the several words and their different significations ; and when the whole arrangement was alphabetically formed, he gave the definitions of their meanings, and collected their etymo- logies from Skinner, Junius, and other writers on the subject. In completing his alphabetical arrangement, he, no doubt, would recur to former dictionaries, to see if any words had escaped him ; but this, which Mr. Boswell makes the first step in the business, was in reality the last ; and it was doubtless to this happy arrangement that Johnson effected in a few years, what employed the foreign academies nearly half a century. BISHOP PERCY. 347 534. Miss Williams, During the summer of 1764, Johnson paid a visit to me, at my vicarage-house in Easton-Mauduit, near Wel- lingborough, in Northamptonshire, and spent parts of the months of June, July, and August with me, accompanied by his friend Miss Williams, whom Mrs. Percy found a very agreeable companion. As poor Miss Williams, whose history is so connected with that of Johnson, has not had common justice done her by his biographers, it may be proper to mention, that, so far from being a con- stant source of disquiet and vexation to him, although she had been totally blind for the last thirty years of her life, her mind was so well cultivated, and her conversation so agreeable, that she very much enlivened and diverted his solitary hours ; and, though there may have happened some slight disagreements between her and Mrs. Desmou- lins, which, at the moment, disquieted him, the friendship of Miss Williams contributed very much to his comfort and 'happiness. For, having been the intimate friend of his wife, who had invited her to his house, she continued to reside with him, and in her he had always a conversable companion ; who, whether at his dinners or at his tea- table, entertained his friends with her sensible conversation. Being extremely clean and neat in her person and habits, she never gave the least disgust by her manner of eating ; and when she made tea for Johnson and his friends, conducted it with so much delicacy, by gently touching the outside of the cup, to feel, by the heat, the tea as it ascended within, that it was rather matter of admiration than of dislike to every attentive observer. 535. Truth, Johnson was fond of disputation, and willing to see what could be said on each side of the question, when a subject was argued. At all other times, no man had a more scrupulous regard for truth ; from which, I verily believe, he would not have deviated to save his life. 586. Robert Levett. Mr. Boswell describes Levett as a man of a strange grotesque appearance, stiff and formal in his manner. 348 JOHNSONIANA. This is misrepresented. He was a modest, reserved man ; humble and unaffected ; ready to execute any com- mission for Johnson ; and grateful for his patronage. 537. Mr. Thrale. Of Mr. Thrale, Johnson has given a true character in a Latin epitaph, inscribed on his monument in Streatham church. (') This most amiable and worthy gentleman cer- tainly deserved every tribute of gratitude from the Doctor and his literary friends ; who were always welcome at his hospitable table. It must therefore give us great concern to see his origin degraded by any of them, in a manner that might be extremely injurious to his elegant and accomplished daughters, if it could not be contradicted ; for his father is represented to have been a common drayman ; whereas, he was well known to have been a respectable citizen, who increased a fortune, originally not contemptible, and proved his mind had been always liberal, by giving a superior education to his son. 538. " The Rambler." Mr. Bos well objects to the title of " Rambler," which he says, was ill suited to a series of grave and moral discourses, and is translated into Italian, " II Vagabondo," as also because the same title was afterwards given to a licentious magazine. These are curious reasons. But, in the first place, Mr. Boswell assumes, that Johnson intended only to write a series of papers on "grave and moral " subjects ; whereas, on the contrary, he meant this periodical paper should be open for the reception of every subject, serious or sprightly, solemn or familiar, moral or amusing ; and therefore endeavoured to find a title as general and unconfined as possible. He acknow- ledged, that " The Spectator" was the most happily chosen of all others, and " The Tatler " the next to it ; and after long consideration how to fix a third title, equally capa- cious and suited to his purpose, he suddenly thought upon " The Rambler" (*) \ and it would be difficult to find any (1) [See post, No. 698.] BISHOP PERCY. 349 other that so exactly coincided with the motto he has adopted in the title-page, — ie Quo me cunque rapit tempestas deferor hospes." 539. Fear of Death. Mr. Boswell states, that "Dr. Johnson's conduct, after he had associated with Savage and others, was not so strictly virtuous, in one respect, as when he was a younger man." This seems to have been suggested by Mr. Boswell, to account for Johnson's religious terrors on the approach of death ; as if they proceeded from his naving been led by Savage to vicious indulgences with the women of the town, in his nocturnal rambles. This, if true, Johnson was not likely to have confessed to Mr. Boswell, and therefore must be received as a pure inven- tion of his own. But if Johnson ever conversed with those unfortunate females, it is believed to have been in order to reclaim them from their dissolute life, by moral and religious impressions ; for to one of his friends he once related a conversation of that sort which he had with a young female in the street, and that, asking her what she thought she was made for, her reply was, " she supposed to please the gentlemen." His friend intimating his surprise, that he should have had communications with street- walkers, implying a suspicion that they were not of a moral tendency, Johnson expressed the highest indig- nation that any other motive could ever be suspected. (1) [A paper, entitled " The Rambler," appeared in 1712. Only one number of it seems to have escaped the ravages of time : this is in the British Museum.] 350 Part XXVI. ANECDOTES AND REMARKS, BY LADY KNIGHT. (') 540. Mrs. Johnson. Mrs. Williams's account of Johnson's wife was, that she had a good understanding- and great sensihility, 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 struggling 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 them. However, she always retained her affec- tion for them. While they resided in Gough Court, her son, the officer, knocked at the door, and asked the maid if her mistress was at home ? She answered, " Yes, Sir ; but she is sick in bed." " O ! " says he, " if it is so, tell her that her son Jervas called to know how she did ;" and was going away. The maid begged she might run up to tell her mistress, and, without attending his answer, left him. 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 was gone, and poor Mrs. Johnson was much agitated by (1) From a paper transmitted by Lady Knight, at Rome, to Mr. Hoole. Lady Knight was the mother of Miss Cornelia Knight, the accomplished author of " Dinarbas," " Marcus Flaminius," and other ingenious works. See Boswell, vol.i. p. 275. ; and vol. iii. p. 9.] LADY KNIGHT. 351 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 undutiful ; so 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." 541. Mrs. Williams, Mrs. Williams was never otherwise dependent on Dr. Johnson, than in that sort of association, which is little known in the great world. They both had much to struggle through ; and I verily believe, that whichever held the purse, the other partook what want required. She was, in respect to morals, more rigid than modern politeness admits ; for she abhorred vice, and was not sparing of anger against those who threw young folks into temptation. Her ideas were very just in respect to the improvement of the mind, and her own was well stored. I have several of her letters : they are all written with great good sense and simplicity, and with a tenderness and affection, that far excel all that is called politeness and elegance. I have been favoured with her company some weeks at different times, and always found her temper equal, and her conversation lively. I never passed hours with more pleasure than when I heard her and Dr. John- son talk of the persons they valued, or upon subjects in which they were much interested. One night I remember Mrs. Williams was giving an account of the Wilkinsons being at Paris, and having had consigned to their care the letters of Lady Wortley Montagu, on which they had bestowed great praise. The Doctor said, " Why, Madam, there might be great charms to them in being intrusted with honourable letters ; but those who know better of the world, would have rather possessed two pages of true history." 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 Abbey, would not he go with us ? " No," he replied ; " not while I can keep out." Upon our saying, that the friends of a lady had been in great fear least she should make a certain match for herself, he 352 JOHNSONIANA. said, " We that are his friends have had great fears for him." I talked to Mrs. Thrale much of dear Mrs. Wil- liams. She said she was highly born ; that she was very nearly related to a Welsh peer ; but that, though Dr. Johnson had always pressed her to be acquainted with her, yet she could not ; she was afraid of her. I named her virtues ; she seemed to hear me as if I had spoken of a newly discovered country. ,542. Johnson's Character. I think the character of Dr. Johnson can never be better summed up than in his own words in " Rasselas," chapter 42. He was master of an infinite deal of wit, which pro- ceeded from depth of thought, and of a humour which he used sometimes to take off from the asperity of reproof. Though he did frequently utter very sportive things, which might be said to be playing upon the folly of some of his companions, and though he never said one that could dis- grace him, yet I think, now that he is no more, the care should be to prove his steady uniformity in wisdom, virtue, and religion. His 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 estab- lished ; but I know he disliked absolute power, and I am very sure of his 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 ostentatious pomp of church ceremonies attracts the imagination ; but, if they want to persuade you to change your religion, you must remember, that, by in- creasing your faith, you may be persuaded to become a Turk." If these were not the words, I have kept up to the express meaning. . 353 Part XXVII. ANECDOTES, BY MR. STOCKDALE. 0) 543. Swift — The Tale of a Tub. About the year 1770, I was invited by the lively and hospitable Tom Davies to dine with him, to meet some interesting characters. Dr. Johnson was of the party, and this was my first introduction to him : there were others, with whom every intelligent mind would have wished to converse, — Dr. Goldsmith and Mr. Meyer, the elegant miniature painter. Swift was one of our convivial subjects ; of whom it was Dr. Johnson's inva- riable custom to speak in a disparaging manner. We gave our sentiments, and undoubtedly of high panegyric, on the Tale of a Tub ; of which Dr. Johnson insisted, in his usual positive manner, that it was impossible that Swift should have been the author, it was so eminently superior to all his other works. I expressed my own conviction, that it was written by Swift, and that, in many of his productions, he showed a genius not unequal to the composition of the Tale of a Tub. The Doctor desired me to name one. I replied, that I thought Gulliver's (l) [From "Memoirs of the Life and Writings of Perceval Stoekdale," 2 vols. 8vo. 1809. To this gentleman, the " Belfield " of Miss Burney's " Cecilia," Johnson was, upon several occasions, a kind protector. He was, for some years, the Doctor's neighbour, both in Johnson's Court and Bolt Court.] A A 354 JOHNSONIANA. Travels not unworthy of the performance he so exclusively admired. He would not admit the instance ; but said, that " if Swift was really the author of the Tale of a Tub, as the best of his other performances were of a very infe- rior merit, he should have handed himself after he had 544. The Journal to Stella. Johnson said on the same day, " Swift corresponded minutely with Stella and Mrs. Dingley, on his impor- tance with the ministry, from excessive vanity — that the women might exclaim, 'What a great man Dr. Swift is!'" 545. Warburton. Among other topics, Warburton claimed our attention. Goldsmith took a part against Warburton, whom Johnson strenuously defended, and, indeed, with many strong arguments, and with bright sallies of eloquence. Gold- smith ridiculously asserted, that Warburton was a weak writer. This misapplied characteristic Dr. Johnson re- futed, I shall never forget one of the happy meta- phors with which he strengthened and illustrated his refutation. " Warburton," said he, " may be absurd, but he will never be weak : he flounders well." 546. Johnson's Cat. If I wanted the precedents, examples, and authority of celebrated men, to warrant my humble regard and affection for a cat, either in my boyish or maturer years (that use- ful, and indeed amiable, but infamously harassed and persecuted creature), those precedents I might easily pro- duce. Montaigne has recorded his cat, in his usual facetiousness, but in an affectionate manner. And as the insolence of Achilles, and the sternness of Telamonian Ajax, were subdued by a Briseis and a Tecmessa, I have frequently seen the ruggedness of Dr. Johnson softened to smiles and caresses, by the inarticulate, yet pathetic, expressions of his favourite Hodge. STOCKDALE. 355 547. Charles the Twelfth. Charles the Twelfth was guilty of" a deed which will eternally shade the glory of one of the most splendid periods that are presented to us in history — the murder of Patkal. Dr. Johnson remarked to me, when we were conversing on this tragical suhject, that Charles had nine years of good and nine of bad fortune ; that his adverse events began soon after the execution of Patkal, and con- tinued to his death. Johnson may be pronounced to have been superstitious ; but I own that I was sensibly struck with the force of the observation. 548. Pope's Homer. Lord Lyttelton told me, that on a visit to Mr. Pope, while he was translating the Iliad, he took the liberty to express to that great poet his surprise, that he had not determined to translate Homer's poem into blank verse ; as it was an epic poem, and as he had before him the illustrious example of Milton, in the Paradise Lost. Mr. Pope's answer to Lord Lyttelton was, that " he could translate it more easily into rhyme." I communicated this anecdote to Dr. Johnson : his remark to me was, I think, very erroneous in criticism, — " Sir, when Pope said that, he knew that he lied. " 549. Garrick. When Dr. Johnson and I were talking of Garrick, I observed, that he was a very moderate, fair, and pleasing companion ; when we considered what a constant influx had flowed upon him, both of fortune and fame, to throw him off his bias of moral and social self-government. " Sir, " replied Johnson, in his usual emphatical and glowing manner, "you are very right in your remark ; Garrick has undoubtedly the merit of a temperate and unassuming behaviour in society ; for more pains have been taken to spoil that fellow, than if he had been heir apparent to the empire of India." When Garrick was one day mentioning to me Dr. Johnson's illiberal treatment of him, on different occa- a A 2 356 JOHNSONIANA. sions ; " I question," said he, "whether, in his calmest and most dispassionate moments, he would allow me the high theatrical merit which the public have been so gene- rous as to attribute to me." I told him, that I would take an early opportunity to make the trial, and that I would not fail to inform him of the result of my experi- ment. As I had rather an active curiosity to put Johnson's disinterested generosity fairly to the test, on this apposite subject, I took an early opportunity of waiting on him, to hear his verdict on Garriek's pretensions to his great and universal fame. I found him in very good and social humour ; and I began a conversation which naturally led to the mention of Garrick. I said something particular on his excellence as an actor ; and I added, " But pray, Dr. Johnson, do you really think that he deserves that illustrious theatrical character, and that prodigious fame, which he has acquired?" "Oh, Sir," said he, "he deserves every thing that he has acquired, for having seized the very soul of Shakspeare ; for having embodied it in himself ; and for having extended its glory over the world." I was not slow in communicating to Gar- rick the answer of the Delphic oracle. The tear started in his eye — " Oh ! Stockdale, " said he, " such a praise from such a man ! — this atones for all that has passed." 550. Intoxication. I called on Dr. Johnson one morning, when Mrs. Williams, the blind lady, was conversing with him. She was telling him where she had dined the day before. " There were several gentlemen there, " said she, " and when some of them came to the tea-table, 1 found that there had been a good deal of hard drinking." She closed this observation with a common and trite moral reflection; which, indeed, is very ill-founded, and does great injustice to animals — " I wonder what pleasure men can take in making beasts of themselves ! " "I wonder, Madam," replied the Doctor, " that you have not penetration enough to see the strong inducement to this excess \ for he who makes a beast of himself gets rid of the pain of being a man." STOCKDALE. 357 551. Mrs. Bruce. Mrs. Bruce, an old Scotch lady, the widow of Captain Bruce, who had heen for many years an officer in the Russian service, drank tea with me one afternoon at my lodgings in Bolt Court, when Johnson was one of the company. She spoke very broad Scotch ; and this alarmed me for her present social situation. " Dr. Johnson," said she, "you tell us, in your Dictionary, that in England oats are given to horses ; but that in Scotland they support the people. Now, Sir, I can assure you, that in Scotland we give oats to our horses, as well as you do to yours in England." I almost trembled for the widow of the Russian hero ; I never saw a more contemptuous leer than that which Johnson threw at Mrs. Bruce. However, he deigned her an answer, — "I am very glad, Madam, to find that you treat your horses as well as you treat yourselves." I was delivered from my panic, and I wondered that she was so gently set down. A A 3 358 Part XXVIII. ANECDOTES, BY MISS HAWKINS, (l) 552. Johnson's Person and Dress. When first I remember Johnson, I used to see him some- times at a little distance from the house, coming to call on my father ; his look directed downwards, or rather in such abstraction as to have no direction. His walk was heavy, but he got on at a great rate, his left arm always placed across his breast, so as to bring the hand under his chin ; and he walked wide, as if to support his weight. Got out of a hackney coach, which had set him down in Fleet Street, my brother Henry says, he made his way up Bolt Court in the zig-zag direction of a blast of lightning ; submitting his course only to the deflections imposed by the impossi- bility of going further to right or left. His clothes hung loose, and the pocket on the right hand swung violently, the lining of his coat being always visible. I can now call to mind his brown hand, his metal sleeve- buttons, and my surprise at seeing him with plain wrist- bands, when all gentlemen wore ruffles ; his coat-sleeve being very wide, showed his linen almost to his elbow. ( 2 ) (1) [From "Memoirs, Anecdotes, Facts, and Opinions, collected by Letitia Matilda Hawkins" (daughter of Sir John), 2 vols. 12mo. 1824.] (2) [The accompanying whole-length portrait of Johnson, from an original painting in the possession of Mr. Archdeacon Cambridge, the son of the Doctor's friend, Richard Owen Cambridge, Esq. of Twickenham, " was considered," says the proprietor, " by all who knew him, to be an exact representation of his figure, ippearance, and action, "] i ' MISS HAWKINS. 359 Iii his colloquial intercourse, Johnson's compliments were studied, and therefore lost their effect : his head dipped lower ; the semicircle in which it revolved was of greater extent ; and his roar was deeper in its tone when he meant to be civil. His movement in reading - , which he did with great rapidity, was humorously described after his death, by a lady, who said, that " his head swung seconds." The usual initial sentences of his conversation led some to imagine that to resemble him was as easy as to mimic him, and that, if they began with " Why, Sir," or " I know no reason," or " If any man chooses to think," or " If you mean to say," they must, of course, " talk John- son." That his style might be imitated, is true ; and that its strong features made it easier to lay hold on it than on a milder style, no one will dispute. 553. The Economy of Bolt Court. What the economy of Dr. Johnson's house may have been under his wife's administration, I cannot tell ; but, under Miss Williams's management, and indeed, after- wards, when he was overcome at the misery of those around him, it always exceeded my expectation, as far as the condition of the apartment into which I was admitted could enable me to judge. It was not, indeed, his study : amongst his books he probably might bring Maglia- becchi to recollection ; but I saw him only in the decent drawing-room of a house, not inferior to others on the same local situation, and with stout old-fashioned maho- gany table and chairs. He was a liberal customer to his tailor, and I can remember that his linen was often a strong contrast to the colour of his hands. 554. Bennet Langton. On one occasion, I remember Johnson's departing from his gentleness towards Mr. Langton, and in his irritation showing some inconsistency of ideas. I went with my father to call in Bolt Court one Sunday after church. There were many persons in the Doctor's drawing-room, and among them Mr. Langton, who stood leaning against the post of an open door, undergoing what I suppose the A A 4 36d JOHNSONIANA. giver of it would have called an "objurgation." Johnson, on my father's entrance, went back to explain the cause of this, which was no less than that Mr. Langton, in his opi- nion, ought then to have been far on his road into Lincoln- shire, where he was informed his mother w asvery ill. Mr. Langton's pious affection for his mother could not be doubted, — she was a parent of whom any son might have been proud ; but this was a feeling which never could have been brought into the question by her son : the inert spirit, backed, perhaps, by hope, and previous knowledge of the extent of similar attacks, prevailed ; and Johnson's argu- ments seemed hitherto rather to have riveted Mr. Langton's feet to the place where he was, than to have spurred him to quit it. My father, thus referred to, took up the sub- ject, and a few half- whispered sentences from him made Mr. Langton take his leave ; but, as he was quitting the room, Johnson, with one of his howls, and his indescri- bable, but really pathetic slow semi-circuits of his head, said most energetically, " Do, Hawkins, teach Langton a little of the world." 555. Mrs. Thrale. On the death of Mr. Thrale, it was concluded by some, that Johnson would marry the widow ; by others, that he would entirely take up his residence in her house ; which, resembling the situation of many other learned men, would have been nothing extraordinary or censurable. The path he would pursue was not evident ; when, on a sudden, he came out again, and sought my father with kind eagerness. Calls were exchanged : he would now take his tea with us ; and in one of those evening visits, which were the pleasantest periods of my knowledge of him, saying, when taking leave, that he was leaving London, Lady Hawkins said, "I suppose you are going to Bath ?" " Why should you suppose so?" said he. "Because," said my mother, " I hear Mrs. Thrale is gone there." " I know nothing of Mrs. Thrale," he roared out ; " good evening to you." The state of affairs was soon made known. MISS HAWKINS. 361 556. Warburton. To Warburton's great powers he did full justice. He did not always, my brother says, agree with him in his notions ; " but," said he, " with all his errors, si non er~ rasset, fecerat tile minus" Speaking of Warburton's contemptuous treatment of some one who presumed to differ from him, I heard him repeat with much glee the coarse expressions in which he had vented this feeling, that there could be no doubt of his hearty approbation. 557. Sex. He said, he doubted whether there ever was a man who was not gratified by being told that he was liked by the women. 558. Reading and Study. Speaking of reading and study, my younger brother heard him say, that he would not ask a man to give up his important interests for them, because it would not be fair ; but that, if any man would employ in reading that time which he would otherwise waste, he would answer for it, if he were a man of ordinary endowment, that he would make a sensible man. " He might not," said he, " make a Bentley, but he would be a sensible man." 559. Thurlow. — Burke. — Bosivell. It may be said of Johnson, that he had a peculiar in- dividual feeling of regard towards his many and various friends, and that he was to each what I might call the indenture or counterpart of what they were to him. My brother says, that any memoirs of his conversations with Lord Thurlow or Burke would be invaluable : to the former he acknowledged that he always " talked his best ;" and the latter would, by the force of his own powers, have tried those of Johnson to the utmost. But still the inquisitive world, that world whose inquisitiveness has tempted almost to sacrilege, would not have been satisfied without the minor communications of Boswell, though he sometimes sorely punctured his friend to get at what he wanted. 362 JOHNSONIANA. 560. Complainers. It is greatly to the honour of Johnson, that he never accustomed himself to descant on the ingratitude of man- kind, or to comment on the many causes he had to think harshly of the world. He said once to my youngest brother, " I hate a complainer." This hatred might pre- serve him from the habit. 561. Envy. — Dr. Taylor. Johnson was, with all his infirmities, bodily and mental, less of the thorough-bred irritabile genus of authors, than most of his compeers : he had no petty feelings of animo- sity, to be traced only to mean causes. He said of some one, indeed, that he was " a good hater," as if he approved the feeling ; but I understand by the expression, that it was at least a justifiable, an honest and avowed aversion, that obtained this character for its possessor. But still more to his honour is it, that his irritability was not excited by the most common cause of mortification. He saw the companion of his studies and the witness of his poverty, Taylor, raised by the tide of human affairs to bloating affluence, and, I should presume, with pretensions of every kind, far, very far inferior to his : yet I do not recollect having ever heard of a sigh excited by his dis- parity of lot. That he envied Garrick, while he loved and admired him, is true ; but it was under the pardonable feeling of jealousy, in seeing histrionic excellence so much more highly prized, than that which he knew himself to possess. 562. Reynolds s " Discourses." On Johnson's death, Mr. Langton said to Sir John Hawkins, " We shall now know whether he has or has not assisted Sir Joshua in his ' Discourses ; ' " but Johnson had assured Sir John, that his assistance had never ex- ceeded the substitution of a word or two, in preference to what Sir Joshua had written. MISS HAWKINS. 363 563. " Mr. James Boswell." My father and Boswell grew a little acquainted ; and when the Life of their friend came out, Boswell showed himself very uneasy under an injury, which he was much embarrassed in defining. He called on my father, and being admitted, complained of the manner in which he was enrolled amongst Johnson's friends, which was as " Mr. James Boswell of Auchinleck." Where was the offence ? It was one of those which a complainant hardly dares to embody in words : he would only repeat, " Well, but Mr. James Boswell ! surely, surely, Mr. James Boswell! l n " I know," said my father, " Mr. Boswell, what you mean ; you would have had me say that John- son undertook this tour with The Boswell." He could not indeed absolutely covet this mode of proclamation ; he would perhaps have been content with " the celebrated," or " the well-known," but he could not confess quite so much ; he therefore acquiesced in the amendment pro- posed, but he was forced to depart without any promise of correction in a subsequent edition. 364 Part XXIX. ANECDOTES, BY JOHN NICHOLS, ESQ. (i) 564. " Lives of the Poets. 9 ' My intimate acquaintance with that bright luminary of literature, Johnson, did not commence till he was advanced in years ; but it happens to have fallen to my lot (and 1 confess that I am proud of it) to have been present at many interesting conversations in the latest periods of the life of this illustrious pattern of true piety. In the progress of his " Lives of the Poets," I had the good fortune to con- ciliate his esteem, by several little services. Many of his short notes during the progress of that work are printed in the Gentleman's Magazine, and in one of his letters to Mrs. Thrale he says, " I have finished the Life of Prior — and now a fig for Mr. Nichols!" Our friendship, how- ever, did not cease with the termination of those volumes. 565. Lichfield. Of his birth-place, Lichfield, Dr. Johnson always spoke with a laudable enthusiasm. " Its inhabitants," he said, " were more orthodox in their religion, more pure in their language, and more polite in their manners, than any other town in the kingdom ;" and he often lamented, that " no (1) [From " Literary Anecdotes of the Eighteenth Century," in 9 vols. 8vo. 1812—15.] NICHOLS. 365 city of equal antiquity and worth had been so destitute of a native to record its fame and transmit its history to pos- terity." 566. Roxana and Statira. Mr, Cradock informs me, that he once accompanied Dr. Johnson and Mr. Steevens to Marylebone Gardens, to see " La Serva Padrona " performed. Mr. Steevens, being quite weary of the burletta, exclaimed, " There is no plot ; it is merely an old fellow cheated and deluded by his servant ; it is quite foolish and unnatural." John- son instantly replied, " Sir, it is not unnatural. It is a scene that is acted in my family every day in my life." This did not allude to the maidservant, however, so much, as to two distressed ladies, whom he generously supported in his house, who were always quarrelling. These ladies presided at Johnson's table by turns when there was company ; which, of course, would produce disputes. I ventured one day to say, " Surely, Dr. Johnson, Rox- ana for this time should take place of Statira. " " Yes, Sir," replied the Doctor; "but in my family, it has never been decided which is Roxana, and which is Statira." 567. Joseph Heed's Tragedy. It happened that I was in Bolt Court on the day when Mr. Henderson, the justly celebrated actor, was first introduced to Dr. Johnson ; and the conversation turning on dramatic subjects, Henderson asked the Doctor's opin- ion of "Dido" and its author. " Sir," said Johnson, " I never did the man an injury ; yet he would read his tragedy to me." 568. Samuel Boyse. The following particulars of the unfortunate Samuel Boyse I had from Dr. Johnson's own mouth : — " By addressing himself to low vices, among which were gluttony and extravagance, Boyse rendered himself so contemptible and wretched, that he frequently was without 366 JOHNSONIANA. the least subsistence for days together. After squandering away in a dirty manner any money which he acquired, he has been known to pawn all his apparel." Dr. Johnson once collected a sum of money to redeem his clothes, which in two days after were pawned again. " This," said the Doctor, " was when my acquaintances were few, and most of them as poor as myself. The money was collected by shillings." 569. Lauder's Forgery. On my showing Dr. Johnson Archdeacon Blackburne's " Remarks on the Life of Milton," which were published in I78O, he wrote on the margin of p. 14., " In the busi- ness of Lauder I was deceived ; partly by thinking the man too frantic to be fraudulent." 570. Dr. Heberden. Dr. Johnson being asked in his last illness, what phy- sician he had sent for — "Dr. Heberden," replied he, " ultimum Romanorum, the last of our learned phy- sicians." 571. Parliamentary Debates. On the morning of Dec. 7» 1784, 011 ly & i x days before his death, Dr. Johnson requested to see the editor of these anecdotes, from whom he had borrowed some of the early volumes of the Gentleman's Magazine, with a pro- fessed intention to point out the pieces which he had written in that collection. The books lay on the table, with many leaves doubled down, particularly those which contained his share in the Parliamentary Debates (*) ; and such was the goodness of Johnson's heart, that he solemnly declared, that " the only part of his writings which then gave him any compunction, was his account of the debates in the Magazine ; but that at the time he wrote them he did not think he was imposing on the (1) The plan of inserting a regular series of the Parliamentary Debates in the Gentleman's Magazine, was a project which Cave, the proprietor of that work, had long in contemplation before he adventured to put it in practice. At length, in July 1736, he boldly dared ; and a new era in politics, occasioned by the motion to remove the minister, Feb. 13. 1710-1, bringing on much warmer debates, Cave committed the care of this part of his monthly publication to Johnson. , , NICHOLS. 367 world. The mode," he said, " was to fix upon a speaker's name, then to conjure up an answer. He wrote these debates with more velocity than any other of his productions ; often three columns of the ma- gazine within the hour. He once wrote ten pages in one day. 572. Mr. Faden. Dr. Johnson said to me, I may possibly live, or rather breathe, three days, or perhaps three weeks ; but I find myself daily and gradually worse. Before I quitted him, he asked, whether any of the family of Faden, the printer, were alive. Being told that the geographer near Charing Cross was Faden's son, he said, after a short pause, " I borrowed a guinea of his father nearly thirty years ago ; be so good as to take this, and pay it for me." 573. Last Interview. During the whole time of my intimacy with him, he rarely permitted me to depart without some sententious advice. At the latest of these affecting interviews, his words at parting were, " Take care of your eternal sal- vation. Remember to observe the Sabbath. Let it never be a day of business, nor wholly a clay of dissipation." He concluded his solemn farewell with, " Let my words have their due weight. They are the words of a dying man. " I never saw him more. In the last five or six days of his life but few even of his most intimate friends were admitted. Every hour that could be abstracted from his bodily pains and infirmities, was spent in prayer and the warmest ejaculations ; and in that pious, praiseworthy, and exemplary manner, he closed a life begun, continued, and ended in virtue. 368 Part XXX. ANECDOTES AND REMARKS, BY ARTHUR MURPHY, ESQ. (i) 574. Introductory, I enjoyed the conversation and friendship of this excel- lent man more than thirty years. I thought it an honour to he so connected, and to this hour I reflect on his loss with regret : hut regret, I know, has secret hrihes, hy which the judgment may he influenced, and partial affection may he carried heyond the hounds of truth. In the pre- sent case, however, nothing needs to be disguised, and exaggerated praise is unnecessary. 575. First Interview, It was in the summer of 17«54, that I became acquainted with Dr. Johnson. The cause of his first visit is related by Mrs. Piozzi nearly in the following manner : — " Mr. Murphy being engaged in a periodical paper, the ' Gray's Inn Journal,' was at a friend's house in the country, and, not being disposed to lose pleasure for business, wished to content his bookseller by some unstudied essay. He therefore took up a French Journal Litteraire, and, translating something he liked, sent it away to town. Time, however, discovered that he translated from the French a ' Rambler, ' which had been taken from the English without acknowledgment. Upon this discovery, (1) [From " An Essay on the Life and Genius of Samuel Johnson, LL. D." prefixed to his Works; and first published in 1792.] MURPHY. 369 Mr. Murphy thought it right to make his excuses to Dr. Johnson. He went next day, and found him covered with soot, like a chimney-sweeper, in a little room, as if he had been acting Lungs in the Alchymist, making ether. This being told by Mr. Murphy in company, ' Come, come,' said Dr. Johnson, ' the story is black enough ; but it was a happy day that brought you first to my house.' " After this first visit, I by degrees grew intimate with Dr. Johnson. 576. Lord Bolingbroke* The first striking sentence that I heard from Dr. Johnson was in a few days after the publication of Lord Bolingbroke's posthumous works. Mr. Garrick asked him, "If he had seen them?" "Yes, I have seen them." " What do you think of them ? " " Think of them ! " He made a long pause, and then replied : " Think of them ! A scoundrel and a coward ! A scoundrel, who spent his life in charging a gun against Christianity ; and a coward, who was afraid of hearing the report of his own gun ; but left half a crown to a hungry Scotchman to draw the trigger after his death." 577« Picture of Himself. Johnson's reflections on his own life and conduct were always severe ; and, wishing to be immaculate, he de- stroyed his own peace by unnecessary scruples. He tells us, that, when he surveyed his past life, he discovered nothing but a barren waste of time, with some disorders of body, and disturbances of mind very near to madness. His life, he says, from his earliest youth, was wasted in a morning bed ; and his reigning sin was a general slug- gishness, to which he was always inclined, and, in part of his life, almost compelled, by morbid melancholy and weariness of mind. This was his constitutional malady, derived, perhaps, from his father, who was, at times, overcast with a gloom that bordered on insanity. In a Latin poem, to which he has prefixed as a title TNX20I ^EATTON, he has left a picture of himself, drawn with as much truth, and as firm a hand, as can be B B 370 JOHNSONIA N A . seen in the portraits of Hogarth or Sir Joshua Reynolds. The learned reader will find the original poem in the first volume of his Works ; and it is hoped that a translation, or rather imitation, of so curious a piece will not he im- proper in this place : — "KNOW YOURSELF. " AFTER REVISING AND ENLARGING THE ENGLISH LEXICON, OR DICTIONARY. " When Scaliger, whole years of labour past, Beheld his Lexicon complete at last. And weary of his task, with wond'ring eyes, Saw from words piled on words a fabric rise, He cursed the industry, inertly strong, In creeping toil that could persist so long, And if, enraged he cried, Heav'n meant to shed Its keenest vengeance on the guilty head, The drudgery of words the damn'd would know, Doom'd to write Lexicons in endless woe. (*) " Yes, you had cause, great Genius, to repent ; ' You lost good days, that might be better spent ;' You well might grudge the hours of ling'ring pain, And view your learned labours with disdain. To you were given the large expanded mind, The flame of genius, and the taste refined. 'Twas yours on eagle wings aloft to soar, And amidst rolling worlds the Great First Cause explore ; To fix the aeras of recorded time, And live in ev'ry age and ev'ry clime ; Record the chiefs, who propt their country's cause ; Who founded empires, and establish'd laws ; To learn whate'er the sage with virtue fraught, Whate'er the Muse of moral wisdom taught. These were your quarry; these to you were known, And the world's ample volume was your own. "Yet warn'd by me, ye pigmy Wits, beware, Nor with immortal Scaliger compare. For me, though his example strike my view, Oh ! not for me his footsteps to pursue ; Whether first Nature, unpropitious, cold, This clay compounded in a ruder mould ; Or the slow current, loit'ring at my heart, No gleam of wit or fancy can impart ; Whate'er the cause, from me no numbers flow, No visions warm me, and no raptures glow. (1) See Scaliger's epigram on this subject, communicated without doubt by Dr. Johnson, Gent. Mag. 1748. MURPHY. SJ1 f A mind like Scaliger's, superior still, No grief could conquer, no misfortune chill. Though for the maze of words his native skies He seem'd to quit, 'twas but again to rise ; To mount once more to the bright source of day, And view the wonders of th' etherial way. The love of Fame his gen'rous bosom fired; Each Science hail'd him, and each Muse inspired. For him the Sons of Learning trimm'd the bays, And nations grew harmonious in his praise. My task perform'd, and all my labours o'er, For me what lot has Fortune now in store ? The listless will succeeds, that worst disease, The rack of indolence, the sluggish ease. Care grows on care, and o'er my aching brain Black Melancholy pours her morbid train. No kind relief, no lenitive at hand, I seek, at midnight clubs, the social band ; But midnight clubs, where wit with noise conspires, Where Comus revels, and where wine inspires, Delight no more : I seek my lonely bed, And call on Sleep to sooth my languid head : But sleep from these sad lids flies far away ; I mourn all night, and dread the coming day. Exhausted, tired, I throw my eyes around, To find some vacant spot on classic ground And soon, vain hope ! I form a grand design ; Languor succeeds, and all my powers decline. If Science open not her richest vein, Without materials all our toil is vain. A form to rugged stone when Phidias gives, Beneath his touch a new creation lives. Remove his marble, and his genius dies ; With nature then no breathing statue vies. Whate'er I plan, I feel my powers confined By Fortune's frown and penury of mind. I boast no knowledge glean'd with toil and strife, That bright reward of a well-acted life. I view myself, while Reason's feeble light Shoots a pale glimmer through the gloom of night, While passions, errors, phantoms of the brain, And vain opinions, fill the dark domain ; A deary void, where fears with grief combined Waste all within, and desolate the mind. What then remains ? Must I in slow decline To mute inglorious ease old age resign ? Or, bold ambition kindling in my breast, Attempt some arduous task ? Or, were it best B B 2 37% JOHNSONIANA. Brooding o'er Lexicons to pass the day. And in that labour drudge my life away ? " (*) Such is the picture for which Dr. Johnson sat to himself. He gives the prominent features of his character ; his lassitude, his morbid melancholy, his love of fame, his dejection, his tavern parties, and his wandering reveries, Vacuce mala somnia mentis, about which so much has been written ; all are painted in miniature, but in vivid colours, by his own hand. His idea of writing more dictionaries was not merely said in verse. Mr. Hamilton, who was at that time an eminent printer, and well acquainted with Dr. Johnson, remembers that he engaged in a Commercial Dictionary, and, as appears by the receipts in his posses- sion, was paid his price for several sheets ; but he soon relinquished the undertaking. 578. BoswelV s Introduction to Johnson. Upon one occasion, I went with Dr. Johnson into the shop of Davies, the bookseller, in Russell Street, Covent Garden. Davies came running to him almost out of breath with joy *. " The Scots gentleman is come, Sir ; his prin- cipal wish is to see you ; he is now in the back parlour." " Well, well, I'll see the gentleman," said Johnson. He walked towards the room. Mr. Boswell was the person. I followed with no small curiosity. " I find," said Mr. Boswell, " that I am come to London at a bad time, when great popular prejudice has gone forth against us North Britons ; but, when I am talking to you, I am talking to a large and liberal mind, and you know that I cannot help coming from Scotland" " Sir," said Johnson, " no more can the rest of your countrymen." ( 2 ) 579. Dread of Death. For many years, when he was not disposed to enter into the conversation going forward, whoever sat near his chair might hear him repeating, from Shakspeare, — (1) [This spirited translation, or rather imitation, is by Mr. Murphy.] (2) [Mr. Boswell's account of this introduction is somewhat different from the above. See Life, vol. i. p. 400 J MURPHY. 373 " Ay, but to die and go we know not where ; To lie in cold obstruction and to rot ; This sensible warm motion to become A kneaded clod, and the delighted spirit To bathe in fiery floods." And from Milton, — " Who would lose, For fear of pain, this intellectual being ! " 580. Essex-Head Club. Johnson, being in December 1783 eased of his dropsy, began to entertain hopes that the vigour of his constitution was not entirely broken. For the sake of conversing with his friends, he established a conversation-club, to meet on every Wednesday evening ; and, to serve a man whom he had known in Mr. Thrale's household for many years, the place was fixed at his house in Essex Street near the Temple. To answer the malignant remarks of Sir John Hawkins on this subject were a wretched waste of time. Professing to be Johnson's friend, that biographer has raised more objections to his character than all the enemies to that excellent man. Sir John had a root of bitterness that " put rancours in the vessel of his peace." " Fielding," he says, " was the inventor of a cant phrase, Goodness of Heart, which means little more than the virtue of a horse or a dog." He should have known that kind affections are the essence of virtue ; they are the will of God implanted in our nature, to aid and strengthen moral obligation ; they incite to action ; a sense of benevolence is no less necessary than a sense of duty. Good affections are an ornament not only to an author but to his writings. He who shows himself upon a cold scent for opportunities to bark and snarl throughout a volume of six hundred pages may, if he will, pretend to moralise ; but " goodness of heart," or, to use the politer phrase, the " virtue of a horse or a dog," would redound more to his honour, 581. Character of Johnson. If we now look back, as from an eminence, to view the scenes of life and the literary labours in which Dr. BBS 374* JOHNSONIANA. Johnson was engaged, we may be able to delineate the features of the man, and to form an estimate of his genius. As a man, Dr. Johnson stands displayed in open daylight. Nothing remains undiscovered. What- ever he said is known ; and without allowing him the usual privilege of hazarding sentiments, and advancing positions, for mere amusement, or the pleasure of dis- cussion, criticism has endeavoured to make him answer- able for what, perhaps, he never seriously thought. His Diary, which has been printed, discovers still more. We have before us the very heart of the man, with all his inward consciousness. And yet, neither in the open paths of life, nor in his secret recesses, has any one vice been discovered. We see him reviewing every year of his life, and severely censuring himself for not keeping resolutions, which morbid melancholy and other bodily infirmities rendered impracticable. We see him for every little defect imposing on himself voluntary penance, and to the last, amidst paroxysms and remissions of illness, forming plans of study and resolutions to amend his life. (') Many of his scruples may be called weaknesses ; but they are the weaknesses of a good, a pious, and most excel- lent man. Johnson was born a logician ; one of those to whom only books of logic are said to be of use. In consequence of his skill in that art, he loved argumentation. No man thought more profoundly, nor with such acute discernment. A fallacy could not stand before him : it was sure to be refuted by strength of reasoning, and a precision both in idea and expression almost unequalled. When he chose by apt illustration to place the argument of his adversary in a ludicrous light, one was almost inclined to think ridicule the test of truth. He was surprised to be told, but it is certainly true, that, with great powers of mind, wit and humour were his shining talents. That he often argued for the sake of triumph over his adversary, cannot be dissembled. Dr. Rose, of Chiswick, has been heard to tell a friend of his, who thanked him for introducing him to Dr. Johnson, as he had been convinced, in the (l) [On the subject of voluntary penance, see the Rambler, No. 110.] MURPHY. 375 course of a long- dispute, that an opinion, which he had embraced as a settled truth, was no better than a vulgar error. This being- reported to Johnson, "Nay," said he, " do not let him be thankful ; for he was right, and I was wrong." Like his uncle Andrew, in the ring at Smith- field, Johnson, in a circle of disputants, was determined neither to be thrown nor conquered. Notwithstanding all his piety, self-government, or the command of his passions in conversation, does not seem to have been among his attainments. Whenever he thought the contention was for superiority, he has been known to break out with violence, and even ferocity. When the fray was over, he generally softened into repentance, and, by conciliating measures, took care that no animosity should be left rank- ling in the breast of his antagonist. It is observed by the younger Pliny, that in the confines of virtue and great qualities there are generally vices of an opposite nature. In Dr. Johnson, not one ingredient can take the name of vice. From his attainments in literature grew the pride of knowledge ; and from his powers of reasoning, the love of disputation and the vainglory of superior vigour. His piety, in some instances, bordered on superstition. He was willing to believe in preternatural agency, and thought it not more strange that there should be evil spirits than evil men. Even the question about second sight held him in suspense. Since virtue, or moral goodness, consists in a just conformity of our actions to the relations in which we stand to the Supreme Being and to our fellow-creatures, where shall we find a man who has been, or endeavoured to be, more diligent in the discharge of those essential duties ? His first Prayer was composed in 1738 ; he continued those fervent ejaculations of piety to the end of his life. In his Meditations we see him scrutinising himself with severity, and aiming at perfection unattainable by man. His duty to his neighbour consisted in universal bene- volence, ana a constant aim at the production of happiness. Who was more sincere and steady in his friendships ? His humanity and generosity, in proportion to his slender income, were unbounded. It has been truly said, that the B b 4 376 JOHNSONIANA. lame, the blind, and the sorrowful, found in his house a sure retreat. A strict adherence to truth he considered as a sacred obligation, insomuch that, in relating the most minute anecdote, he would not allow himself the smallest addition to embellish his story. The late Mr. Tyers, who knew Dr. Johnson intimately, observed, that "he always talked as if he was talking upon oath." After a long acquaintance with this excellent man, and an attentive retrospect to his whole conduct, such is the light in which he appears to the writer of this essay. The following lines of Horace may be deemed his picture in miniature : — " Iracundior est paulo, minus aptus acutis Naribus horum hominum, rideri possit, eo quod Rusticius tonso toga defluit, et male laxus In pede calceus haeret ; at est bonus, ut melior vir Non alius quisquam ; at tibi amicus at ingenium ingens ; Inculto latet hoc sub corpore." et Your friend is passionate, perhaps unfit For the brisk petulance of modern wit ; His hair ill-cut, his robe that awkward flows, Or his large shoes to raillery expose The man you love ; yet is he not possest Of virtues with which very few are blest ? While underneath this rude, uncouth disguise A genius of extensive knowledge lies." 377 Part XXXI. CRITICAL REMARKS, BY NATHAN DRAKE. (*) 582. "London." As this spirited imitation of Juvenal forms an epoch in our author's literary life, and is one of his best poetical productions, I shall consider it as introductory to an unin- terrupted consideration of his compositions in this branch, and to a discussion of his general character as a poet ; and this plan I shall pursue with regard to the other numerous departments of literature in which he excelled, and accord- ing to the order in which the first in merit of a class shall in succession rise to view ; persuaded that, by this mode, the monotony arising from a stricter chronological detail of his various writings, the arrangement hitherto adopted by his biographers, may, in a great measure, be obviated. Of the three imitators of the third satire of the Roman poet, Boileau, Oldham, and Johnson, the latter is, by many degrees, the most vigorous and poetical. No man, indeed, was better calculated to transfuse the stern invective, the sublime philosophy, and nervous painting of Juvenal, than our author; and his " London," whilst it rivals the original in these respects, is, at the same time, greatly superior to it in purity of illustration, and harmony of versification. The felicity with which he (1) [From "Essays, critical and historical, illustrative of the Rambler, Ad- venturer, and Idler:" by Nathan Drake, M. D. Part II. "The Literary Life of Dr. Johnson." 2 vols. 1806 1 378 JOHNSONIANA. has adapted the imagery and allusions of the Latin poem to modern manners, vices, and events ; and the richness and depth of thought which he exhibits when the hint is merely taken from the Roman bard, or when he chooses altogether to desert him, are such as to render this satire the noblest moral poem in our language. At the period when Johnson wrote his " London^)," he must, from his peculiar circumstances, have been prone to imbibe all the warmth and indignation of the ancient satirist, who depicts in the boldest colours the unmerited treatment to which indigence is subjected, and the multi- form oppressions arising from tyranny and ill-acquired wealth. He was indeed, at this time, " steeped up to the lips in poverty," and was likewise a zealous opponent of what he deemed a corrupt administration. It is impos- sible to read the following passage, one of the finest in the poem, and especially its concluding line, which the author distinguished by capitals, without deeply entering into, and severely sympathising with, the feelings and sufferings of the writer : — " By numbers here from shame or censure free, All crimes are safe but hated poverty : This, only this, the rigid law pursues, This, only this, provokes the snarling muse. The sober trader at a tatter'd cloak Wakes from his dream, and labours for a joke ; With brisker air the silken courtiers gaze, And turn the varied taunt a thousand ways. " Of all the griefs that harass the distress'd, Sure the most bitter is a scornful jest ; Fate never wounds more deep the gen'rous heart, Than when a blockhead's insult points the dart. " Has Heaven reserved, in pity to the poor, No pathless waste, or un disco ver'd shore? (1) [One of the warmest patrons of Johnson's " London," on its first appear- ance in 1738, was General Oglethorpe; and the Doctor, throughout life, gratefully acknowledged the kind and effectual support which he gave to that poem, though totally unacquainted with its author. The accompanying engrav- ing is made from a pen-and-ink sketch, taken February 28th, 1785, by the late Samuel Ireland, while the General was attending the sale of Di . Johnson's library at Christie's great room in Pall Mall. The original is in the possession of Mr. Upcott. He died in the July following, in his eighty-fifth year.] .ondun.l'ni.i: ;h., IK DRAKE. 379 No secret island in the boundless main ! No peaceful desert yet unclaim'd by Spain ? Quick let us rise, the happy seats explore, And bear oppression's insolence no more. This mournful truth is every where confess'd, Slow rises worth, by poverty depress'd" 583. "Vanity of Human Wishes" The " Vanity of Human Wishes," the subject of which is in a great degree founded on the Alcibiades of Plato, possesses not the point and fire which animate the " London. " It breathes, however, a strain of calm and dignified philosophy, much more pleasing to the mind, and certainly much more consonant to truth, than the party exaggeration of the prior satire. The poet's choice of modern examples, in place of those brought forward by the ancient bard, is happy and judicious ; and he has every where availed himself, and in a style the most impressive, of the solemnity, the pathos, and sublime morality of the Christian code. To enter into competition with the tenth satire of Juvenal, which is, without doubt, the most perfect com- position of its author, was a daring and a hazardous attempt. Dryden had led the way, and, though occasion- ally successful, has failed to equal the general merit of the Latin poem. The imitation of Johnson, on the contrary, may be said to vie with the Roman in every line, and in some instances to surpass the original ; particularly in the sketch of Charles, and in the conclusion of the satire, which, though nobly moral as it is in the page of Juvenal, is greatly heightened by the pen of Johnson, and forms one of the finest lessons of piety and resignation disco- verable in the words of any uninspired writer. After reprobating the too frequent folly of our wishes and our prayers, it is inquired of the poet, whether we shall upon no occasion implore the mercy of the skies ? He replies : — - " Inquirer, cease ; petitions yet remain, Which Heaven may hear, nor deem religion vain. Siill raise for good the supplicating voice, But leave to Heaven the measure and the choice. 380 JOHNSONlANAe Safe in His power, whose eyes discern afar The secret ambush of a specious prayer ; Implore His aid, in His decisions rest, Secure whate'er He gives He gives the best. Yet when the sense of sacred presence fires, And strong devotion to the skies aspires, Pour forth thy fervours for a healthful mind, Obedient passions, and a will resign d, For love, which scarce collective man can fill; For patience, sov reign o'er transmuted ill; For faith, that, panting for a happier seat, Counts death kind natures signal of retreat: These goods for man the laws of heaven ordain, These goods he grants, who grants the power to gain; With these celestial wisdom calms the mind, And makes the happiness she does not find." 584. "Irene" " Irene" can boast of a strict adherence to the unities; of harmonious versification ; of diction vigorous and splendid ; of sentiment morally correct and philosophi- cally beautiful : but its fable is without interest, its cha- racters without discrimination, and neither terror nor pity is excited. If it fail, however, as a drama, in delineating the ebullitions of passion, it will, as a series of ethic dialogues, replete with striking observations on human conduct, and rich in poetic expression, be long studied and admired in the closet. No one of the productions of Johnson, indeed, was more carefully elaborated than his " Irene ;" and, though commenced at an early period of life, no one more evidently discovers his exclusive love of moral philosophy, and his ample store of nervous and emphatic language. Of the numerous passages which illustrate this remark, and which, for their moral excellence, should dwell upon the memory, I shall adduce two, in conception and in execution alike happy. Deme- trius, addressing the aged Visier Cali on the danger of protracting the blow which he intended until the morrow, exclaims, — " To-morrow's action ! can that hoary wisdom, Borne down with years, still doat upon to-morrow ! That fatal mistress of the young, the lazy, The coward, and the fool, condemned to lose DRAKE. 381 An useless life in waiting for to-morrow. To gaze with longing eyes upon to-morrow, Till interposing death destroys the prospect ! Strange ! that this gen'ral fraud from day to day Should fill the world with wretches undetected. The soldier, lab'ring through a winter's march, Still sees to-morrow drest in robes of triumph; Still to the lover's long-expecting arms, To-morrow brings the visionary bride. But thou, too old to bear another cheat, Learn, that the present hour alone is man's." Aspasia, reprobating the ambition and meditated apostacy of Irene, endeavours to reconcile her mind to the loss of life, rather than of virtue and religion, and bids her " Reflect that life and death, affecting sounds ! Are only varied modes of endless being ; Reflect that life, like ev'ry other blessing, Derives its value from its use alone : Not for itself, but for a nobler end, Th' Eternal gave it, and that end is virtue. When inconsistent with a greater good, Reason commands to cast the less away ; Thus life, with loss of wealth, is well preserved, And virtue cheaply saved with loss of life." In act the first, scene the second, is a passage which has been frequently and justly admired ; it is put into the mouth of the Visier Cali, who, execrating the miseries of arbitrary power, alludes to a report which he had re- ceived, of the nicely balanced structure of the British Constitution : — " If there be any land, as fame reports, Where common laws restrain the prince and subject, A happy land, where circulating power Flows through each member of th' embodied state ; Sure, not unconscious of the mighty blessing, Her grateful sons shine bright with ev'ry virtue ; Untainted with the lust of innovation, Sure all unite to hold her league of rule Unbroken as the sacred chain of nature, That links the jarring elements in peace." " These are British sentiments," remarks Mr. Murphy (writing in 1792) : " above forty years ago, they found an echo in the breast of applauding audiences ; and to this hour they are the voice of the people, in defiance of the 38$ JOHNSONIAN A. metaphysics and the new lights of certain politicians, who would gladly find their private advantage in the disasters of their country ; a race of men, quibus nulla ex honesto spes." 585. Robert Levett. The stanzas on the death of this man of great but humble utility are beyond all praise. The wonderful powers of Johnson were never shown to greater advan- tage than on this occasion, where the subject, from its obscurity and mediocrity, seemed to bid defiance to poetical efforts ; it is, in fact, warm from the heart, and is the only poem from the pen of Johnson that has been bathed with tears. Would to God, that on every medical man who attends the poor, the following encomiums could be justly passed ! " Well tried through many a varying year, See Levett to the grave descend ; Officious, innocent, sincere, Of ev ry friendless name the friend. i( When fainting nature call'd for aid, And hov'ring death prepared the blow, His vig'rous remedy display'd The power of art without the show. {( In Misrys darkest cavern known, His useful care was ever nigh, Where hopeless Anguish pourd his groan, And lonely Want retired to die." How boldly painted, how exquisitely pathetic, as a de- scription of the sufferings of human life, is this last stanza ! I am acquainted with nothing superior to it in the pro- ductions of the moral muse. 586. " Medea" of Euripides. To the English poetry of Johnson, may now be added a very beautiful translation of some noble lines from the " Medea" of Euripides. It has escaped all the editors of his works, and was very lately introduced to the world in a volume of considerable merit, entitled " Translations from the Greek Anthology, with Tales and Miscellaneous draki:. 383 Poems." A parody, indeed, by our author upon this passage of the Grecian poet was published by Mrs. Piozzi, but it is of little value, while the following version has preserved all the elegance and pathos of the original : — fi The rites derived from ancient days, With thoughtless reverence we praise ; The rites that taught us to combine The joys of music and of wine ; That bade the feast, the song, the bowl, O'erfill the saturated soul ; But ne'er the lute nor lyre applied To soothe Despair or soften Pride, Nor call'd them to the gloomy cells Where Madness raves and Vengeance swells, Where Hate sits musing to betray, And Murder meditates his prey. To dens of guilt and shades of care, Ye sons of melody, repair, Nor deign the festive hour to cloy With superfluity of joy; The board with varied plenty crown'd May spare the luxury of sound." 587- Rambler and Adventurer, As specimens of the style of Johnson, we shall adduce three quotations, taken from the " Rambler" and " Ad- venturer ; " the first on a didactic, the second on a moral, and the third on a religious subject ; passages, which will place in a very striking light the prominent peculiarities and excellences of the most splendid and powerful mo- ralist of which this country can boast. Animadverting on the necessity of accommodating knowledge to the purposes of life, the " Rambler" thus proceeds : — " To lessen that disdain with which scholars are inclined to look on the common business of the world, and the unwillingness with which they condescend to learn what is not to be found in any system of philosophy, it may be necessary to consider, that though admiration is excited by abstruse researches and remote discoveries, yet pleasure is not given, nor affection conciliated, but by softer accomplishments, and qualities more easily communicable to those about us. He that can only converse upon questions about which only a small part of mankind has knowledge sufficient to make them curious, must lose his days in un- 384 JOHNSONIANA. social silence, and live in the crowd of life without a companion. He that can only be useful in great occasions, may die without exerting his abilities, and stand a helpless spectator of a thousand vexations which fret away happiness, and which nothing is required to remove, but a little dexterity of conduct and readiness of expedients. {< No degree of knowledge attainable by man is able to set him above the want of hourly assistance, or to extinguish the desire of fond en- dearments and tender officiousness ; and therefore, no one should think it unnecessary to learn those arts by which friendship may be gained. Kindness is preserved by a constant reciprocation of benefits or inter- change of pleasures ; but such benefits only can be bestowed as others are capable to receive, and such pleasures only imparted as others are qualified to enjoy. " By this descent from the pinnacles of a#t no honour will be lost ; for the condescensions of learning are always overpaid by gratitude. An elevated genius employed in little things, appears, to use the simile of Longinus, like the sun in his evening declination ; he remits his splendour but retains his magnitude, and pleases more though he dazzles less." (i) The following- passage on the iniquity of revenge, and on the meanness of regulating our conduct by the opinions of men, is alike eminent for its style and for its senti- ments : the purest morality is here clothed in diction powerfully impressive : — " A wise man will make haste to forgive, because he knows the true value of time, and will not suffer it to pass away in unnecessary pain. He that willingly suffers the corrosions of inveterate hatred, and gives up his days and nights to the gloom and malice and perturbations of stratagem, cannot surely be said to consult his ease. Resentment is an union of sorrow with malignity ; a combination of a passion which all endeavour to avoid, with a passion which all concur to detest. The man who retires to meditate mischief, and to exasperate his own rage ; whose thoughts are employed only on means of distress and contrivances of ruin ; whose mind never pauses from the remembrance of his own sufferings, but to indulge some hope of enjoying the ca^mities of another, may justly be numbered among the most miserable of human beings, among those who are guilty without reward, who have neither the gladness of prosperity nor the calm of innocence. " Whoever considers the weakness both of himself and others will not long want persuasives to forgiveness. We know not to what degree of malignity any injury is to be imputed ; or how much its guilt, if we were to inspect the mind of him that committed it, would be extenuated by mistake, precipitance, or negligence; we cannot be certain how much more we feel than was intended to be inflicted, or how much we increase the mischief to ourselves by voluntary aggravations. We may charge to design the effects of accident ; we may think the blow (1) Rambler, No. 1S7. DRAKE. 385 violent only because we have made ourselves delicate and tender ; we are on every side in danger of error and of guilt, which we are certain to avoid only by speedy forgiveness. " From this pacific and harmless temper, thus propitious to others and ourselves, to domestic tranquillity and to social happiness, no man is withheld but by pride, by the fear of being insulted by his adversary, or despised by the world. " It may be laid down as an unfailing and universal axiom, that ( all pride is abject and mean.' It is always an ignorant, lazy, or cowardly acquiescence in a false appearance of excellence, and proceeds not from consciousness of our attainments, but insensibility of our wants. " Nothing can be great which is not right. Nothing which reason con- demns can be suitable to the dignity of the human mind. To be driven by external motives from the path which our own heart approves, to give way to any thing but conviction, to suffer the opinion of others to rule our choice or overpower our resolves, is to submit tamely to the lowest and most ignominious slavery, and to resign the right of direct- ing our own lives. " The utmost excellence at which humanity can arrive, is a constant and determinate pursuit of virtue without regard to present dangers or advantage ; a continual reference of every action to the divine will ; an habitual appeal to everlasting justice ; and an unvaried elevation of the intellectual eye to the reward which perseverance only can obtain. But that pride which many, who presume to boast of generous sentiments, allow to regulate their measures, has nothing nobler in view than the ap- probation of men ; of beings whose superiority we are under no obliga- tion to acknowledge, and who, when we have courted them with the utmost assiduity, can confer no valuable or permanent reward ; of beings who ignorantly judge of what they do not understand, or partially deter- mine what they never have examined ; and whose sentence is therefore of no weight, till it has received the ratification of our own conscience. " He that can descend to bribe suffrages like these at the price of his innocence ; he that can suffer the delight of such acclamations to withhold his attention from the commands of the universal Sovereign, has little reason to congratulate himself upon the greatness of his mind ; whenever he awakes to seriousness and reflection, he must become des- picable in his own eyes, and shrink with shame from the remembrance of his cowardice and folly. " Of him that hopes to be forgiven, it is indispensably required that he forgive. It is therefore superfluous to urge any other motive. On this great duty eternity is suspended ; and to him that refuses to prac- tise it the throne of mercy is inaccessible, and the Saviour of the world has been born in vain." ( i ) Admirably, however, as these noble precepts are ex- pressed, the specimen that we have next to quote will, it is probable, be deemed still superior both in diction and imagery. The close is, indeed, one of the most exquisite (1) Rambler, No. 185. C C 386 JOHNSONIANA. and sublime passages in the works of its eloquent author. Speaking of those who retire from the world that " they may employ more time in the duties of religion ; that they may regulate their actions with stricter vigilance, and purify their thoughts by more frequent meditation," he adds, — " To men thus elevated above the mists of mortality, I am far from presuming myself qualified to give directions. On him that appears e to pass through things temporal/ with no other care than c not to lose finally the things eternal,' I look with such veneration as inclines me to approve his conduct in the whole, without a minute examination of its parts ; yet I could never forbear to wish, that while Vice is every day multiplying seducements, and stalking forth with more hardened effront- ery, Virtue would not withdraw the influence of her presence, or forbear to assert her natural dignity by open and undaunted perseverance in the right. Piety practised in solitude, like the flower that blooms in the desert, may give its fragrance to the winds of heaven, and delight those unbodied spirits that survey the works of God and the actions of men : but it bestows no assistance upon earthly beings, and however free from taints of impurity, yet wants the sacred splendour of beneficence." ( l ) The publication of the "Rambler" produced a very rapid revolution in the tone of English composition : an elevation and dignity, an harmony and energy, a precision and force of style, previously unknown in the history of our litera- ture, speedily became objects of daily emulation ; and the school of Johnson increased with such celerity, that it soon embraced the greater part of the rising literary characters of the day, and was consequently founded on such a basis as will not easily be shaken by succeeding modes. 588. Johnson sketched by Himself. The character of Sober in the " Idler," No. 31., was intended by the author as a delineation of himself. John- son was constitutionally idle, nor was he roused to any great effort, but by the imperious call of necessity : his exertions, indeed, when sufficiently stimulated, were gi- gantic, but they were infrequent and uncertain. He was destined to complain of the miseries of idleness, and to mitigate his remorse by repeated but too often in- effectual resolutions of industry. The portrait which he (1) Adventurer, No. 126. DRAKE. 387 has drawn is faithful, and divested of flattery — a result not common in autobiography : — " Sober is a man of strong desires and quick imagination,, so exactly balanced by the love of ease, that they can seldom stimulate him to any difficult undertaking ; they have, however, so much power, that they will not suffer him to lie quite at rest, and though they do not make him sufficiently useful to others, they make him at least weary of him- self. " Mr. Sober's chief pleasure is conversation ; there is no end of his talk or his attention ; to speak or to hear is equally pleasing ; for he still fancies that he is teaching or learning something, and is free for the time from his own reproaches. " But there is one time at night when he must go home, that his friends may sleep ; and another time in the morning, when all the world agrees to shut out interruption. These are the moments of which poor Sober trembles at the thought. But the misery of these tiresome intervals, he has many means of alleviating. He has persuaded himself that the manual arts are undeservedly overlooked ; he has observed in many trades the effects of close thought, and just ratiocination. From speculation he proceeded to practice, and supplied himself with the tools of a carpenter, with which he mended his coal-box very successfully, and which he still continues to employ as he finds occasion. V £ v\ { tv% U 3 Is KEARSLEV. 395 600. Hawkesworth' s " Ode on Life." Sometime previous to Hawkes worth's publication of his beautiful " Ode on Life," he carried it down with him to a friend's house in the country to retouch. Johnson was of this party ; and, as Hawkesworth and the Doctor lived upon the most intimate terms, the former read it to him for his opinion. " Why, Sir," says Johnson, " I can't well determine on a first hearing ; read it again, second thoughts are best." Hawkesworth did so ; after which Johnson read it himself, and approved of it very highly. Next morning at breakfast, the subject of the poem being renewed, Johnson, after again expressing his approbation of it, said he had but one objection to make to it, which was, that he doubted its originality. Hawkes- worth, alarmed at this, challenged him to the proof, when the Doctor repeated the whole of the poem, with only the omission of a few lines. " What do you say to that, Hawkey?" said the Doctor. " Only this," replied the other, " that I shall never repeat any thing I write before you again ; for you have a memory that would convict any author of plagiarism in any court of literature in the world." I have now the poem before me, and I find it contains no less than sixty-eight lines. 601. Projected Dictionary of Commerce. Soon after the publication of the English Dictionary, Johnson made a proposal to a number of booksellers, convened for that purpose, of writing a Dictionary of Trade and Commerce. This proposal went round the room without any answer, when a well-known son of the trade, remarkable for the abruptness of his manners, replied, " Why, Doctor, what the devil do you know of trade and commerce ?" The Doctor very modestly answered, " Why, Sir, not much, I must confess, in the practical line ; but I believe I could glean, from different authors of authority on the subject, such ma- terials as would answer the purpose very well." 396 JOHNSONIANA. 602. Cave, — St. John's Gate. From his close intimacy with Cave, the proprietor of the Gentleman's Magazine, Johnson was much at St. John's Gate, Clerkenwell, where the bookseller resided, and taught Garrick the way thither. Cave having been told by Johnson, that his friend had talents for the theatre, and was come to London with a view to the profession of an actor, expressed a wish to see him in some comic character. Garrick readily complied, and with a little preparation of the room over the great arch of St. John's Gate, and with the assistance of a few journeymen printers, who were called together for the purpose of reading the other parts, represented, with all the graces of comic humour, the principal character in Fielding's farce of the Mock Doctor. 603. Emigration from Scotland. The emigration of the Scotch to London being a con- versation between the Doctor and Foote, the latter said he believed the number of Scotch in London were as great in the former as the present reign. "No, Sir!" said the Doctor, " you are certainly wrong in your belief: but I see how you 're deceived ; you can't distinguish them now as formerly, for the fellows all come here breeched of late years." 604. Mr. Thrale. " Pray, Doctor," said a gentleman to him, " is Mr. Thrale a man of conversation, or is he only wise and silent ?" " Why, Sir, his conversation does not show the minute hand ; but he strikes the hour very correctly." 605. Scotch Gooseberries. On Johnson's return from Scotland, a particular friend of his was saying, that now he had had a view of the country, he was in hopes it would cure him of many pre- judices against that nation, particularly in respect to the fruits. Why, yes, Sir," said the Doctor ; " I have found /rfvfo*}, (ftJbu. 2^ J"*~ flh^J - ,1'rintej: KEARSLEY. BOOTHBY. 397 out that gooseberries will grow there against a south wall ; but the skins are so tough, that it is death to the man who swallows one of them." 606. Hunting. Being asked his opinion of hunting, he said, " It was the labour of the savages of North America, but the amuse- ment of the gentlemen of England." 6O7. Mrs, Thrale's Marriage with Piozzi. When Johnson was told of Mrs. Thrale's marriage with Piozzi, the Italian singer, he was dumb with surprise for some moments ; at last, recovering himself, he ex- claimed with great emotion, " Varium et mutabile semper fcemina ! " 608. Johnson's Dying Advice. Johnson was, in every sense of the word, a true and sincere believer of the Christian religion. Nor did he content himself with a silent belief of those great myste- ries by which our salvation is principally effected, but by a pious and punctual discharge of all its duties and cere- monies. His last advice to his friends was upon this sub- ject, and, like a second Socrates, though under sentence of death from his infirmities, their eternal welfare was his principal theme. To some he enjoined it with tears in his eyes, reminding them " it was the dying request of a friend, who had no other way of paying the large obliga- tions he owed them but by this advice." Others he pressed with arguments, setting before them, from the example of all religions, that sacrifices for sins were practised in all ages, and hence enforcing the belief of the Son of God sacrificing himself " to be a propitiation, not only for our sins, but also for the sins of the whole world." 609. Johnson's Colloquial Eloquence. (*) Johnson spoke as he wrote. He would take up a topic, and utter upon it a number of the " Rambler." On a (1) [Communicated to Dr. Robert Anderson by Sir Brooke Boothby ; who frequently enjoyed the company of Johnson at Lichfield and Ashbourne.] 398 JOHNSONIANA. question, one day, at Miss Porter's, concerning the autho- rity of a newspaper for some fact, he related, that a lady of his acquaintance implicitly believed every thing she read in the papers ; and that, by way of curing her credulity, he fabricated a story of a battle between the Russians and Turks, then at war ; and " that it might," he said, " bear internal evidence of its futility, I laid the scene in an island at the conflux of the Boristhenes and the Danube ; rivers which run at the distance of a hundred leagues from each other. The lady, however, believed the story, and never forgave the deception ; the consequence of which was, that I lost an agreeable companion, and she was de- prived of an innocent amusement." And he added, as an extraordinary circumstance, that the Russian ambassador sent in great haste to the printer to know from whence he had received the intelligence. Another time, at Dr. Tay- lor's, a few days after the death of the wife of the Rev. Mr. Kennedy, of Bradley, a woman of extraordinary sense, he described the eccentricities of the man and the woman, with a nicety of discrimination, and a force of language, equal to the best of his periodical essays. 610. Assertion and Argument. (*) In Boswell's Life of Johnson mention is made of an ob- servation of his respecting the manner in which argument ought to be rated. As Mr. Boswell has not recorded this with his usual precision, and as I was present at Mr. Hoole's at the time mentioned by Mr. Boswell, I shall here insert what passed, of which I have a perfect recollection. Mention having been made that counsel were to be heard at the bar of the House of Commons, one of the company at Mr. Hoole's asked Sir James Johnson if he intended to be present. He answered, that he believed he should not, because he paid little regard to the arguments of counsel at the bar of the House of Commons. " Wherefore do you pay little regard to their arguments, Sir ? " said Dr. Johnson. "Because," replied Sir James, "they argue for their fee." " What is it to you, Sir," rejoined Dr. Johnson, " what they argue for ? you have nothing to do (1) [From Dr. John Moore's Life of Smollett.] MOORE. WARNER. 399 with their motive, but you ought to weigh their argument. Sir, you seem to confound argument with assertion, but there is an essential distinction between them. Assertion is like an arrow shot from a long bow ; the force with which it strikes depends on the strength of the arm that draws it. But argument is like an arrow from a cross-bow, which has equal force whether shot by a boy or a giant." The whole company was struck with the aptness and beauty of this illustration ; and one of them said, " That is, indeed, one of the most just and admirable illustrations that I ever heard in my life." " Sir," said Dr. Johnson, " the illustration is none of mine — you will find it in Bacon." 611. Uttoxeter — Expiatory Penance, ( l ) During the last visit which the Doctor made to Lich- field, the friends with whom he was staying missed him one morning at the breakfast-table. On inquiring after him of the servants, they understood he had set off from Lichfield at a very early hour, without mentioning to any of the family whither he was going. The day passed without the return of the illustrious guest, and the party began to be very uneasy on his account, when, just before the supper-hour, the door opened, and the Doctor stalked into the room. A solemn silence of a few minutes ensued, nobody daring to inquire the cause of his absence, which was at length relieved by Johnson addressing the lady of the house in the following manner : " Madam, I beg your pardon for the abruptness of my departure from your house this morning, but I was constrained to it by my conscience. Fifty years ago, Madam, on this day, I com- mitted a breach of filial piety, which has ever since lain heavy on my mind, and has not till this day been expiated. My father, you recollect, was a bookseller, and had long been in the habit of attending Uttoxeter market, and open- ing a stall for the sale of his books during that day. Con- fined to his bed by indisposition, he requested me, this time fifty years ago, to visit the market, and attend the (1) [From Warner's " Tour through the Northern Counties of England," published in 1802. J 400 JOHNSONIANA. stall in his place. But, Madam, my pride prevented me from doing 1 my duty, and I gave my father a refusal. To do away the sin of this disobedience, I this day went in a postchaise to Uttoxeter, and going into the market at the time of high business, uncovered my head, and stood with it bare an hour before the stall which my father had for- merly used, exposed to the sneers of the standers-by and the inclemency of the weather ; a penance by which I trust I have propitiated Heaven for this only instance, I believe, of contumacy towards my father." 612. Nollekens's Bust of Johnson. ( J ) When Dr. Johnson sat to Mr. Nollekens for his bust, he was very much displeased at the manner in which the head had been loaded with hair ; which the sculptor insisted upon, as it made him look more like an ancient poet. The sittings were not very favourable, which rather vexed the artist, who, upon opening the street door, a vulgarity he was addicted to, peevishly whined, " Now, Doctor, you did say you would give my bust half an hour before dinner, and the dinner has been waiting this long time. ,, To which the Doctor's reply was, " Bow, wow, wow." The bust is a wonderfully fine one, and very like ; but certainly the sort of hair is objectionable ; having been modelled from the flowing locks of a sturdy Irish beggar, originally a street pavier, who, after he had sat an hour, refused to take a shilling ; stating that he could have made more by begging. 613. Johnson and Mrs. Thrale in Nollekens' *s Studio. Mrs. Thrale one morning entered Nollekens's studio, accompanied by Dr. Johnson, to see the bust of Lord Mansfield, when the sculptor vociferated, " I like your picture by Sir Joshua very much. He tells me it's for Thrale, a brewer, over the water : his wife's a sharp woman, one of the blue-stocking people." " Nolly, Nolly," observed the Doctor, " I wish your maid would (1) [This and the two following are from " Nollekens and his Times, by John Thomas Smith, Keeper of the Prints and Drawings in the British Museum." 8vo. 1828.] NOLLEKENS. SMITH. 401 stop your foolish mouth with a blue-bag." At which Mrs. Thrale smiled, and whispered to the Doctor, " My dear Sir, you'll get nothing by blunting your arrows upon a block." 614. Johnson's Silver Tea-pot. I was one morning agreeably surprised by a letter which Mrs. Maria Cosway put into my hand, written by W. Hoper, Esq., giving me permission to make a drawing of Dr. Johnson's silver tea-pot in his possession. Upon the side of this tea-pot the following inscription is engraven : " We are told by Lucian, that the earthen lamp, which had administered to the lucubrations of Epictetus, was at his death purchased for the enormous sum of three thou- sand drachmas : why, then, may not imagination equally amplify the value of this unadorned vessel, long employed for the infusion of that favourite herb, whose enlivening virtues are said to have so often protracted the elegant and edifying lucubrations of Samuel Johnson ; the zealous advocate of that innocent beverage, against its declared enemy, Jonas Hanway ? It was weighed out for sale, under the inspection of Sir John Hawkins, at the very minute when they were in the next room closing the inci- sion through which Mr. Cruickshank had explored the ruined machinery of its dead master's thorax. So Bray (the silversmith, conveyed there in Sir John's carriage, thus hastily to buy the plate,) informed its present pos- sessor, Henry Constantine Nowell ; by whom it was, for its celebrated services, on the 1st of November, I788, rescued from the indiscriminating obliterations of the furnace." 615. Johnson's Watch and Punch-boivl. The ensuing is an answer to one of my interrogatory epistles. It is from my friend, the Rev. Hugh Pail ye, canon of Lichfield : — " I certainly am in possession of Dr. Johnson's watch, which I purchased from his black servant, Francis Barber. His punch-bowl is likewise in my possession, and was purchased by the Rev. Thomas Harwood, the historian, of Lichfield. It was bought at D D 402 JOHNSONIANA. Mrs. Harwood's sale, by John Barker Scott, Esq., who afterwards presented it to me." 6 16. Dialogue at Dilli/'s, between Mrs. Knowles and Dr. Johnson. ( ! ) Mrs. K. Thy friend, Jenny Harry, desires her kind respects to thee, Doctor. Dr. J. To me ! Tell me not of her ! I hate the odious wench for her apostacy ; and it is you, Madam, who have seduced her from the Christian religion. Mrs. K. This is a heavy charge, indeed. I must beg leave to be heard in my own defence ; and I entreat the attention of the present learned and candid company, de- siring them to judge how far I am able to clear myself of so cruel an accusation. Dr. J. (much disturbed at this unexpected challenge) said, You are a woman, and I give you quarter. Mrs. K. I will not take quarter. There is no sex in souls ; and in the present cause, I fear not even Dr. Johnson himself. — ("Bravo !" teas repeated by the com- pany, and silence ensued.) Dr. J. Well then, Madam, I persist in my charge, that you have seduced Miss Harry from the Christian religion. Mrs. K. If thou really knewest what were the princi- ples of the Friends, thou wouldst not say she had departed from Christianity. But, waiving that discussion for the present, I will take the liberty to observe, that she had an undoubted right to examine and to change her educational tenets, whenever she supposed she had found them erro- neous : as an accountable creature, it was her duty so to do. Dr. J. Pshaw ! pshaw ! — iVn accountable creature ! — Girls accountable creatures ! It was her duty to remain with the church wherein she was educated : she had no business to leave it. (]) [See Life, vol. iv. p. 157.; and No. 500. of this volume. "The narrative of Boswell,' ; says Mr. Nichols [Lit. Must., vol. iv. p. 831.), not proving satis- factory to Molly Knowles (as she was familiarly styled), ?he gave the Dialogue between herself and the sturdy moralist, in her own manner, in the Gent. Mag. vol. lxi. p. 500." In 1805, Mrs. Knowles had it reprinted in a small pamphlet. She died in 1807, at the age of eighty.] MRS. KNOWLES. 403 Mrs. K. What ! not for that which she apprehended to be better ? According to this rule, Doctor, hadst thou been born in Turkey, it had been thy duty to have re- mained a Mahometan, notwithstanding Christian evidence might have wrought in thy mind the clearest conviction ! and, if so, then let me ask, how would thy conscience have answered for such obstinacy at the great and last tribunal ? Dr. J. My conscience would not have been answerable. Mrs. K. Whose, then, would ? Dr. J. Why the state, to be sure. In adhering to the religion of the state, as by law established, our implicit obedience therein becomes our duty. Mrs. K. A nation, or state, having a conscience, is a doctrine entirely new to me, and, indeed, a very curious piece of intelligence ; for I have always understood that a government, or state, is a creature of time only ; beyond which it dissolves, and becomes a nonentity. Now, gen- tlemen, can your imagination body forth this monstrous individual, or being, called a state, composed of millions of people ? Can you behold it stalking forth into the next world, loaded with its mighty conscience, there to be re- warded or punished, for the faith, opinions, and conduct, of its constituent machines called men ? Surely the teem- ing brain of poetry never held up to the fancy so wondrous a personage ! ( When the laugh occasioned by the per- sonification was subsided, the Doctor very angrily re- plied,} Dr. J. I regard not what you say as to that matter. I hate the arrogance of the wench in supposing herself a more competent judge of religion than those who educated her. She imitated you, no doubt ; but she ought not to have presumed to determine for herself in so important an affair. Mrs. K. True, Doctor, I grant it, if, as thou seemest to imply, a wench of twenty years be not a moral agent. Dr. J. I doubt it would be difficult to prove those de- serve that character who turn Quakers. Mrs. K. This severe retort, Doctor, induces me chari- tably to hope thou must be totally unacquainted with the D D 2 404 JOHNSONIANA. principles of the people against whom thou art so exceed- ingly prejudiced, and that thou supposest us a set of infidels or deists. Dr. J. Certainly, I do think you little better than deists. Mrs. K. This is indeed strange ; 'tis passing strange, that a man of such universal reading and research, has not thought it at least expedient to look into the cause of dissent of a society so long established, and so conspicu- ously singular ! Dr. J. Not I, indeed ! I have not read your Barclay's Apology ; and for this plain reason — I never thought it worth my while. You are upstart sectaries, perhaps the best subdued by a silent contempt. Mrs. K. This reminds me of the language of the rabbis of old, when their hierarchy was alarmed by the increasing influence, force, and simplicity of dawning truth, in their high day of worldly dominion. We meekly trust, our principles stand on the same solid foundation of simple truth ; and we invite the acutest investigation. The reason thou givest for not having read Barclay's Apology, is surely a very improper one for a man whom the world looks up to as a moral philosopher of the first rank ; a teacher, from whom they think they have a right to expect much information. To this expecting, inquiring world, how can Dr. Johnson acquit himself, for remaining unac- quainted with a book translated into five or six different languages, and which has been admitted into the libraries of almost every court and university in Christendom ! — (Here the Doctor grew very angry, still more so at the space of time the gentlemen allowed his antagonist wherein to make her defence ; and his impatience excited Mr. Boswell himself in a whisper to say, " I never saw this mighty lion so chafed before ! " ) The Doctor again repeated, that he did not think the Quakers deserved the name of Christians. Mrs. K. Give me leave, then, to endeavour to convince thee of thy error, which I will do by making before thee, and this respectable company, a confession of our faith. Creeds, or confessions of faith, are admitted by all to be the standard whereby we judge of every denomination of MRS. KNOWLES. 405 professors. — (To this every one present agreed; and even the Doctor grumbled out his assent S) Mrs. K. Well, then, I take upon me to declare, that the people called Quakers do verily believe in the Holy Scriptures, and rejoice with the most full and reverential acceptance of the divine history of facts as recorded in the New Testament. That we, consequently, fully believe those historical articles summed up in what is called the Apostles' Creed, with these two exceptions only, to wit, our Saviour's descent into hell, and the resurrection of the body. These mysteries we humbly leave just as they stand in the holy text ; there being, from that ground, no authority for such assertion as is drawn up in the Creed. And now, Doctor, canst thou still deny to us the honorable title of Christians ? Dr. J. Well ! I must own I did not at all suppose you had so much to say for yourselves. However, I cannot forgive that little slut, for presuming to take upon herself as she has done. Mrs. K. I hope, Doctor, thou wilt not remain unfor- giving ; and that you will renew your friendship, and joyfully meet at last in those bright regions where pride and prejudice can never enter ! Dr. J. Meet her ! I never desire to meet fools any where. — (This sarcastic turn of wit teas so pleasantly received, that the Doctor joined in the laugh : his spleen was dissipated ; he took his coffee, and became, for the remainder of the evening, very cheerful and enter- taining^) 617. Rebuke to a talkative Lady. (*) He was one day in conversation with a very talkative lady, of whom he appeared to take very little notice. " Why, Doctor, I believe you prefer the company of men to that of the ladies." " Madam," replied he, " I am very fond of the company of ladies ; I like their beauty, I like their delicacy, I like their vivacity, and I like their silence. (1) [Anecdotes 617. to 629. were communicated by William Seward, Esq., author of " Biographiana, &c," to Isaac Reed, Esq., for insertion in the European Magazine.] D D S 406 JOHNSONIANA. 618. Building without a Scaffold. Johnson was much pleased with a French expression made use of by a lady towards a person whose head was confused with a multitude of knowledge, at which he had not arrived in a regular and principled way, — " 7/ a bdti sans echafaud" — " he has built without his scaffold." 619. Love of Literature. Dr. Johnson was of opinion that the happiest, as well as the most virtuous, persons were to be found amongst those who united with a business or profession a love of literature. 620. Marriage — Choice of a Wife. He was constantly earnest with his friends, when they had thoughts of marriage, to look out for a religious wife. " A principle of honour or fear of the world," added he, " will many times keep a man in decent order ; but when a woman loses her religion, she, in general, loses the only tie that will restrain her actions : Plautus, in his Amphytrio, makes Alcmena say beautifully to her husband, — " Non ego illam mihi dotem duco esse, quae dos dicitur, Sed pudicitiam, et pudorem, et sedatum cupidinem, Deum metum, parentum amoruni, et cognatum concordiam ; Tibi morigera., atque ut munifica sim bonis, prosim probis." 621. Tired of London. He was once told that a friend of his, who had long lived in the metropolis, was about to quit it, to retire into the country, as being tired of London : " Say rather, Sir," said Johnson, " that he is tired of life." 622. Grammar, Writing, and Arithmetic. Dr. Johnson was extremely adverse to the present foppish mode of educating children, so as to make them what foolish mothers call " elegant young men." He said to some lady who asked him what she should teach her son in early life, " Madam, to read, to write, to count 5 grammar, writing, and arithmetic ; three things SEWARD. 407 which, if not taught in very early life, are seldom or ever taught to any purpose, and without the knowledge of which no superstructure of learning or of knowledge can be built." 623. Hartley on Man. Dr. Johnson one day observing a friend of his packing up the two volumes of " Observations on Man," written by this great and good man, to take into the country, said, " Sir, you do right to take Dr. Hartley with you." Dr. Priestley said of him, " that he had learned more from Hartley, than from any book he had ever read, except the Bible." 624. Love of Change. The Doctor used to say that he once knew a man of so vagabond a disposition, that he even wished, for the sake of change of place, to go to the West Indies. He set off on this expedition, and the Doctor saw him in town four months afterwards. Upon asking him, why he had not put his plan in execution, he replied, " I have returned these ten days from the West Indies. The sight of slavery was so horrid to me, that I could only stay two days in one of the islands." This man, who had once been a man of litera- ture, and a private tutor to some young men of consequence, became so extremely torpid and careless in point of further information, that the Doctor, when he called upon him one day, and asked him to lend him a book, was told by him, that he had not one in the house. 625. Secrecy. An ancient had long ago said, " All secrecy is an evil." Johnson, in his strong manner, said, " Nothing ends more fatally than mysteriousness in trifles : indeed, it com- monly ends in guilt ; for those who begin by concealment of innocent things, will soon have something to hide which they dare not bring to light." d D 4 408 JOHNSONIANA. 626. Rochefoucault. Johnson used to say of the Due de Rochefoucault, that he was one of the few gentlemen writers, of whom authors by profession had occasion to be afraid. 627. Investment of Money. A friend of Johnson, an indolent man, succeeding to a moderate sum of money on the death of his father, asked the Doctor how he should lay it out. " Half on mortgage," said he, "and half in the funds: you have then," continued he, " the two best securities for it that your country can afford. Take care, however, of the character of the person to whom you lend it on mortgage ; see that he is a man of exact- ness and regularity, and lives within his income. The money in the funds you are sure of at every emergency ; it is always at hand, and may be resorted to on every occasion." 628. The Eucharist. The learned and excellent Charles Cole having once mentioned to him a book lately published on the Sacra- ment, he replied, "Sir, I look upon the sacrament as the palladium of our religion : I hope that no profane hands will venture to touch it." 629. Johnson at Tunbridge Wells. In the summer of 1748, Johnson, for the sake of relaxa- tion from his literary labours, and probably also for Mrs. Johnson's health, visited Tunbridge Wells, then a place of much greater resort than it is at present. In a draw- ing by Loggan, representing some of the " remarkable characters who were at Tunbridge Wells in 1748," Dr. Johnson stands the first figure. On the opposite side his wife is represented ; as are also Garrick, Cibber, Speaker Onslow, Lord Chatham, Lord Lyttelton, Miss Chudleigh, and several celebrated persons ; and in this assemblage, neither Johnson nor his wife exhibit any appearance of inferiority to the rest of the company. (*) (1) [See Boswell, vol. i. p. 165.— C] I J 4<\' ' Jup: , 3)r. JT ^/- 6 M>j 5,o f . 1 // //. <#-,; ,6 //( (%o-r M~. gosrief - * ^'%' " A '^a„ PEPYS. 409 630. "Life of Lord Ly Melton."— Mr. Pepys. ( l ) I have within these few days received the following paragraph in a letter from a friend of mine in Ireland : — "Johnson's Characters of some Poets breathe such incon- sistency, such absurdity, and such want of taste and feel- ing, that it is the opinion of the Count of Narbonne ( 2 ), Sir N. Barry, and myself, that Mrs. Montagu should ex- pose him in a short publication. He deserves it almost as much as Voltaire — if not, Lytteltoni gratia, do it your- self." I met him some time ago at Streatham ( 3 ), and such a day did we pass in disputation upon the life of our dear friend Lord Lyttelton, as I trust it will never be my fate to pass again ! The moment the cloth was removed, he challenged me to come out (as he called it), and say what I had to object to his Life of Lord Lyttelton. This, you see, was a call which,' however disagreeable to myself and the rest of the company, I could not but obey, and so to it we ivent for three or four hours without ceasing. He once observed, that it was the duty of a biographer to state all the failings of a respectable character. I never longed to do any thing so much as to assume his own principle, and go into a detail which I could suppose his biographer might, in some future time, think necessary ; but I contented myself with generals. He took great credit for not having mentioned the coarseness of Lord Lyttelton's manners. I told him, that if he would insert that ( 4 ) in the next edition, I would excuse him all the rest. We shook hands, however, at parting ; which put (1) [From a Letter from Mr. Pepys to Mrs. Montagu, in the Montagu MSS., dated August 4. 1781. It shows how very violently, and on what slight grounds, the friends of Lord Lyttelton resisted Johnson's treatment of him. Now that personal feelings have suhsided, the readers of the Life will wonder at Mr. Pepys's extravagant indignation ; and we have seen (Life, vol. iv. p. 426.), that Johnson cared so little about the matter, that he was willing that the Life should have been written for him, by one of Lord Lyttelton's friends. — C] (2) [Robert Jephson, Esq., author of " Braganza," and the " Count de Nar- bonne." He died in 1803. — C] (3) [See No. 64.] (4) [On the principle — " Quis tulerit Gracchos de seditione querentes " — Pepys thought, justly enough, that a charge of coarseness of manners made by Johnson against Lord Lyttelton would be so ridiculous as to defeat all the rest of his censure. — C] 410 JOHNSONIANA. me much in mind of the parting between Jacques and Orlando — 'God be with you ; let us meet as seldom as we can ! Fare you well ; I hope we shall be better strangers !'( ] ) We have not met again till last Tuesday, and then I must do him the justice to say, that he did all in his power to show me that he was sorry for the former attack. But what hurts me all this while is, not that Johnson should go unpunished, but that our dear and respectable friend should go down to posterity with that artful and studied contempt thrown upon his character which he so little de- served, and that a man who (notwithstanding the little foibles he might have) was in my opinion one of the most exalted patterns of virtue, liberality, and benevolence, not to mention the high rank which he held in literature, should be handed down to succeeding generations under the appellation of poor Lyttelton ! This, I must own, vexes and disquiets me whenever I think of it ; and had I the command of half your powers, tempered as they are with that true moderation and justice, he should not sleep within his silent grave, I do not say unrevenged (because that is not what I wish), but unvindicated, and unrescued from that contempt which has been so industriously and so injuriously thrown upon him." 631. Blue Stocking Parties. (?) Nothing could be more agreeable, nor indeed more instructive, than these parties. Mrs. Vesey had the almost magic art of putting all her company at their ease, without the least appearance of design. Here was no formal circle, to petrify an unfortunate stranger on his entrance ; no rules of conversation to observe ; no holding forth of one to his own distress, and the stupefying of his audience; no reading of his works by the author. The company naturally broke into little groups, perpetually varying and changing. They talked or were silent, sat (1) ["Now," says Dr. Johnson, the moment he was gone, "is Pepys gone home hating me, who love him better than I did before : he spoke in defence of his dead friend ; but though I hope J spoke better who spoke against him, yet all my eloquence will gain me nothing but an honest man for my enemy." — Piozzi.] (2) [This and the following are from Pennington's " Memoirs of Mrs. Carter."] CARTER. 411 or walked about, just as they pleased. Nor was it abso- lutely necessary even to talk sense. There was no bar to harmless mirth and gaiety ; and while perhaps Dr. John- son in one corner held forth on the moral duties, in another, two or three young- people might be talking of the fashions and the Opera ; and in a third, Lord Orford (then Mr. Horace Walpole) might be amusing a little group around him with his lively wit and intelligent conversation. Now and then perhaps Mrs, Vesey might call the attention of the company in general to some circumstance of news, politics, or literature of peculiar importance ; or perhaps to an anecdote, or interesting account of some person known to the company in general. Of this last kind a laughable circumstance occurred about the year 1778* when Mrs. Carter was confined to her bed with a fever, which was thought to be dangerous. She was attended by her brother-in-law, Dr. Douglas, then a physician in town, and he was in the habit of sending bulletins of the state of her health to her most intimate friends, with many of whom he was well acquainted himself. At one of Mrs. Vesey's parties a note was brought to her, which she immediately saw was from Dr. Douglas. " Oh!" said she, before she opened it, " this contains an account of our dear Mrs. Carter. We are all interested in her health : Dr. Johnson, pray read it out for the information of the company." There was a profound silence ; and the Doctor, with the utmost gravity, read aloud the phy- sician's report of the happy effect which Mrs. Carter's medicines had produced, with a full and complete account of the circumstances attending them. 632, Mrs. Carter on Johnson's Death. I see by the papers (says Mrs. Carter, in a letter to Mrs. Montagu,) that Dr. Johnson is dead. In extent of learning, and exquisite purity of moral writing, he has left no superior, and I fear very few equals. His virtues and his piety were founded on the steadiest of Christian principles and faith. His faults, I firmly believe, arose from the irritations of a most suffering state of nervous constitution, which scarcely ever allowed him a moment's 412 JOHNSONIAN A. ease. You wonder " that an undoubted believer and a man of piety should be afraid of death ; " but it is such characters who have ever the deepest sense of their imper- fections and deviations from the rule of duty, of which the very best must be conscious ; and such a temper of mind as is struck with awe and humility at the prospect of the last solemn sentence appears much better suited to the wretched deficiencies of the best human performances than the thoughtless security that rushes undisturbed into eternity. — To this passage the editor of Mrs. Carter's Letters subjoins: — " Mrs. Carter informed the editor, that in one of the last conversations which she had with this eminent moralist, she told him that she had never known him say any thing contrary to the principles of the Christian religion. He seized her hand with great emo- tion, exclaiming, c You know this, and bear witness to it when I am gone ! ' " 633. Johnson and Coxe. (*) When I was last (says Lord Chedworth) in town, I dined in company with the eminent Mr. C. ( 2 ), of whom I did not form a high opinion. He asserted, that Dr. Johnson originally intended to abuse " Paradise Lost;" but being informed that the nation would not bear it, he produced the critique which now stands in the " Life of Milton," and which he admitted to be excellent. I con- tended that Dr. Johnson had there expressed his real opinion, which no man was less afraid of delivering than Dr. Johnson ; that the critique was written con amore ; and that the work was praised with such a glow of fond- ness, and the grounds of that praise were so fully and satisfactorily unfolded, that it was impossible Dr. Johnson should not have felt the value of the work, which he had so liberally and rationally commended. It came out after- wards that Dr. Johnson had disgusted Mr. C. He had supped at Thrale's one night, when he sat near the upper end of the table, and Dr. Johnson near the lower end ; (1) [From Lord Chedworth's Letters to the Rev. Mr. Crompton.] (2) [Mr. Crompton informs me, that this was the Rev. William Coxe, who had recently published his travels — C] CHED WORTH. WARNER. 413 and having related a long story which had very much de- lighted the company, in the pleasure resulting from which relation Dr. Johnson had not (from his deafness and the distance at which he sat) participated, Mrs. Thrale desired him to retell it to the Doctor. C. complied, and going down to the bottom of the table, bawled it over again in Dr. Johnson's ear : when he had finished, Johnson re- plied, " So, Sir, and this you relate as a good thing:" at which C. fired. He added to us, " Now, it was a good thing, because it was about the king of Poland." Of the value of the story, as he did not relate it, I cannot judge ; but I am sure you will concur with me that it was not therefore necessarily a good thing because it was about a king. I think Johnson's behaviour was indefensibly rude ; but, from the sample I had of C.'s conversation, I am led to suspect that Johnson's censure was not un- founded. 634. Biography. Q) Mr. Fowke's conversation was sprightly and enter- taining, highly seasoned with anecdotes, many of which related to his great and venerable friend Dr. Johnson ; among these, he was accustomed to relate the following: — Mr. Fowke once observed to Dr. Johnson, that, in his opinion, the Doctor's strength lay in writing biography, in which line of composition he infinitely exceeded all his competitors. " Sir," said Johnson, " I believe that is true. The dogs don't know how to write trifles with dignity." 635. Colley Gibber. Speaking of the difficulty of getting information for the " Lives of the Poets," he said, that when he was young, and wanted to write the " Life of Dryden," he desired to be introduced to Colley Gibber, from whom he expected to procure many valuable materials for his purpose. " So, Sir," said Johnson to Cibber, " I find you know Mr. Dryden ?" " Know him ? O Lord ! I was as well ac- (1) [Nos. 634. and 635. are from " Original Letters; edited by R. Warner, of Bath, 1803."] 414 JOHNSONIANA. quainted with him as if he had been my own brother." " Then you can tell me some anecdotes of him ?" " O yes, a thousand ! Why, we used to meet him continually at a club at Button's. I remember as well as if it were but yesterday, that when he came into the room in winter time, he used to go and sit close by the fire in one corner ; and that in summer time he would always go and sit in the window." " Thus, Sir," said Johnson, " what with the corner of the fire in winter, and the window in sum- mer, you see that I got much information from Cibber, of the manners and habits of Dry den." 636. Family Prayers. (*) During Dr. Johnson's visit to Oxford in June, 1784, his friend Dr. Adams expressed an earnest wish that he would compose some family prayers ; upon which John- son replied : "I will not compose prayers for you, Sir, 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 discourse on prayer." By the fol- lowing MS., Dr. Johnson appears to have put to paper some preparatory notes on this subject : — ct Pbeces Against the incursion of evil thoughts. Repentance and pardon. — Laud. In disease. On the loss of friends — by death ; by his own fault or friend's. On the unexpected notice of the death of others. Prayer generally recommendatory ; To understand their prayers; Under dread of death ; Prayer commonly considered as a stated and temporary duty — performed and forgotten — without any effect on the following day. Prayer — a vow. — Taylor. Scepticism caused by 1. Indifference about opinions. 2. Supposition that things disputed are disputable. (1) [From the Anderdon MSS.] BURKE. SAVAGE. BOSWELL. 415 3. Demand of unsuitable evidence. 4. False judgment of evidence. 5. Complaint of the obscurity of Scripture. 6. Contempt of fathers and of authority. 7. Absurd method of learning objections first. 8. Study not for truth but vanity. 9. Sensuality and a vicious life. 10. False honour, false shame. 11. Omission of prayer and religious exercises. — Oct. 31. 1784." 637. Burke and Johnson, ( ! ) In the vicissitudes of twenty-seven years, no estrange- ment occurred to interrupt their mutual admiration and re- gard. Burke followed Johnson to the grave as a mourner ; and in contemplating his character, applied to it a fine passage from Cicero, which might equally suit his own : — Intentum enim animum quasi arcum habebat, nee Ian- guescens succumbebat senectuti. When some one cen- sured Johnson's general rudeness in society, he replied with equal consideration and truth, " It is well, when a man comes to die, if he has nothing worse to accuse him- self of than some harshness in conversation." 638. Savage Boswell. ( 2 ) " Savage," said Dr. Adam Smith, " was but a worth- less fellow ; his pension of fifty pounds never lasted him above a few days. As a sample of his economy, you may take a circumstance that Johnson himself told me. It was, at that period, fashionable to wear scarlet cloaks trimmed with gold lace : the Doctor met him one day, just after he had received his pension, with one of these cloaks upon his back, while, at the same time, his naked toes were peeping through his shoes." — "Boswell was my relative by his mother, who was a daughter of Colonel Erskine, of the Alva family, descended from our common ancestor, John Earl of Marr, governor to Henry Prince of Wales, and Lord Treasurer of Scotland. In conse- quence of a letter he wrote me I desired him to call at Mr. Pitt's, and took care to be with him when he was introduced. Mr. Pitt was then in the Duke of Grafton's (1) [From « Prior's Life of Burke."] (1) [From the Buchan MSS., in the possession of Mr. UpcotU] 416 JOHNSONIANA. house in Great Bond Street. Boswell came in the Cor- sican dress, and presented a letter from Paoli. Lord Chatham smiled, but received him very graciously in his pompous manner. Boswell had genius, but wanted bal- last to counteract his whim. He preferred being a show- man to keeping a shop of his own." (Endorsed on a letter from Boswell to Lord Buchan, dated Jan. 5. I767.) 639. " A respectable Man." ( l ) Mr. Bar Jay, from his connection with Mr. Thrale, had several opportunities of meeting and conversing with Dr. Johnson. On his becoming a partner in the brewery, Johnson advised him not to allow his commercial pursuits to divert his attention from his studies. " A mere literary man," said the Doctor, " is a dull man ; a man who is solely a man of business is a selfish man ; but when litera- ture and commerce are united, they make a respectable man." ( 2 ) 640. Johnson at Titrates. Mr. Barclay had never observed any rudeness or vio- lence on the part of Johnson. He has seen Boswell lay down his knife and fork, and take out his tablets, in order to register a good anecdote. When Johnson proceeded to the dining-room, one of Mr. Thrale's servants handed him a wig of a smarter description than the one he wore in the morning ; the exchange took place in the hall, or passage. Johnson, like many other men, was always in much better humour after dinner than before. 641. "An Old Man's Blessing." Mr. Barclay saw Johnson ten days before he died, when the latter observed, " That they should never meet more. Have you any objection to receive an old man's blessing ?" Mr. Barclay knelt down, and Johnson gave him his bless- ing with great fervency. (1) [This and the two following were communicated to Mr. Markland, by Robert Barclay, Esq., of Bury Hill, Dorking. This excellent man died in 1831.] (2) [This advice will be found to accord pretty closely with Johnson's epitaph en Mr. Thrale : — " Domi inter mille mercanturae negotia, literatum elegantiam minime neglexit." — Markland.] COLE. 417 642. « Honest Whigs." The following scrap is picked out of Cole's voluminous collections in the British Museum. It appears in the shape of a note to his transcript of a Tour through Eng- land, in 1735, written by John Whaley, Fellow of King's College, Cambridge. Mr. Whaley says : " October 3., being the day of swearing in the mayor of Shrewsbury, we were invited by Sir Richard Corbet, the new mayor, to dine ; which we did with much pleasure, as finding a large collection of honest IVhigs met together in Shrop- shire." Cole writes on this: — "A very extraordinary meeting truly ! I was told by Mr. Farmer, the present master of Emanuel College, that he, being in London last year (1774) with Mr. Arnold, tutor in St. John's Col lege, was desired to introduce the latter, who had been bred a Whig, to the acquaintance of the very learned and sensible Dr. Samuel Johnson. They had not been long together, before (the conversation leading to it) the Doc- tor, addressing himself to Mr. Arnold, said, " Sir ! you are a young man, but I have seen a great deal of the world, and take it upon my word and experience, that where you see a Whig, you see a rascal ! " Mr. Farmer said, he was startled, and rather uneasy that the Doctor had expressed himself so bluntly, and was apprehensive that Mr. Arnold might be shocked and take it ill. But they laughed it off, and were very good company. I have lived all my life among this faction, and am in general much disposed to subscribe to the Doctor's opinion. What- ever this honest collection of Salopian Whigs may have been on the whole, I am as well satisfied, as of any thing I know, that there was one rascal, duly and truly, in the company. — TV. Cole, June 26. 177<5." 643. Johnson 9 s Recitation of Poetry. (') Dr. Johnson read serious and sublime poetry with great gravity and feeling. In the recital of prayers and reli- gious poems he was awfully impressive, and his memory (1) [This and the two following are from Cooke's " Life of Foote," 3 vols. 12mo. 1805.] E E 418 JOHNSONIANA. served him upon those occasions with great readiness. One night at the club, a person quoting the nineteenth psalm, the Doctor caught fire ; and, instantly taking off his hat, began with great solemnity, — " The spacious firmament on high," &c, and went through that beautiful hymn. Those who were acquainted with the Doctor, knew how harsh his features in general were ; but upon this occasion, to use the language of Scripture, " his face was almost as if it had been the face of an angel." 644. Johnson in Garrick's Library. On Garrick's showing Johnson a magnificent library full of books in most elegant bindings, the Doctor began running over the volumes in his usual rough and negli- gent manner ; which was, by opening the book so wide as almost to break the back of it, and then flung them down one by one on the floor with contempt. " Zounds I" said Garrick, "why, what are you about? you'll spoil all my books." "No, Sir," replied Johnson, "I have done no- thing but treat a pack of silly plays in fops' dresses just as they deserve ; but I see no books." 645. Johnson at Dovedale. Q) "Dovedale is a place that deserves a visit. The river is small, the rocks are grand. Reynard's Hall is a cave very high in the rock. To the left is a small opening, through which I crept, and found another cavern, perhaps four yards square. I was in a cave yet higher, called Rey- nard's Kitchen. There is a rock called the Church, in which I saw no resemblance that could justify the name. Dovedale is about two miles long. We walked towards the head of the Dove, which is said to rise about five miles above two caves called the Dog-holes, at the foot of Dove- dale. I propose to build an arch from rock to rock over the stream, with a summer-house upon it. The water murmured pleasantly among the stones. He that has seen Dovedale, has no need to visit the Highlands." ( ! ) (1) [FromJohnson's MS. Diary of his Welsh Tour in 1774, now in the pos- session of the Rev. Archdeacon Butler, of Shrewsbury.] ROBINSON. 419 646. Johnson at Langton in 1764. (*) In early life (says Mr. Best) I knew Bennet Langton, of that ilk, as the Scotch say. With great personal claims to the respect of the public, he is known to that public chiefly as a friend of Johnson. He was a very tall, meagre, long-visaged man, much resembling a stork standing on one leg, near the shore, in Raphael's cartoon of the miraculous draught of fishes. His manners were in the highest degree polished ; his conversation mild, equable, and always pleasing. I formed an intimacy with his son, and went to pay him a visit at Langton. After breakfast we walked to the top of a very steep hill behind the house. When we arrived at the summit, Mr. Langton said, " Poor dear Dr. Johnson, when he came to this spot, turned to look down the hill, and said he was determined * to take a roll down.' When we understood what he meant to do, we endeavoured to dissuade him ; but he was resolute, saying, ' he had not had a roll for a longtime ;' and taking out of his lesser pockets whatever might be in them — keys, pencil, purse, or pen-knife — and laying him- self parallel with the edge of the hill, he actually descended, turning himself over and over till he came to the bottom." The story was told with such gravity, and with an air of such affectionate remembrance of a departed friend, that it was impossible to suppose this extraordinary freak of the great lexicographer to have been a fiction or invention of Mr. Langton. ( 2 ) 647. Dr. Dodd. ( 3 ) Miss Seward, her father (the editor of Beaumont and Fletcher, &c), the Rev. R. G. Robinson, of Lichfield, and Dr. Johnson, were passing the day at the palace at Lichfield, of which Mr. Seward was the occupier. The conversation turned upon Dr. Dodd, who had been re- cently executed for forgery. ( 4 ) It proceeded as follows : (1) [From « Personal and Literary Memorials," 8vo. 1829.] (2) [Johnson at the time of his visit to Langton was in his fifty-fifth year.] (3) [This and the following have been communicated by the Rev. Hastings Robinson, Rector of Great Worley, Essex.] (4) [Dr. Dodd was executed June 27. 1777 ; and Dr. Johnson left town for Lichfield at the latter end of the following month.] E E 2 420 JOHNSONIANA. Miss Seward. " I think. Dr. Johnson, you applied to see Mr. Jenkinson in his behalf." Johnson. " Why, yes, Madam ; I knew it was a man having- no interest writing to a man who had no interest ; but I thought with myself, when Dr. Dodd comes to the place of execution, he may say, ' Had Dr. Johnson written in my behalf, I had not been here ;' and {with great emphasis) I could not bear the thought!'^ 1 ) Miss Seward. "But, Dr. Johnson, would you have pardoned Dr. Dodd?" Johnson. " Madam, had I been placed at the head of the legislature, I should certainly have signed his death-warrant ; though no law, either human or divine, forbids our deprecating punishment, either from ourselves or others." 648. "Heerd or Hard?" In one of his visits to Lichfield, Dr. Johnson called upon Mrs. Gastrell, of Stowe, near that city. She opened the Prayer-book, and pointed out a passage, with the wish that he would read it. He began : " We have heard (heerd) with our ears" — she stopped him, saying, "Thank you, Doctor ! you have read all I wish. I merely wanted to know whether you pronounced that word heerd or hard." "Madam," he replied, "'heard' is nonsense; there is but one word of that sound (hard) in the language." 649. Johnson's Willow. ( 2 ) This remarkable tree has been long distinguished as a favourite object of Dr. Johnson, and which he never failed to examine, whenever, after his settlement in the metro- polis, he revisited his native city. The great size it had attained at that period, and its delightful situation between the cathedral and the beautiful vale of Stowe, rendered it likely to attract notice ; and, from the attachment shown to it by the Doctor, it has ever since been regarded as little inferior in celebrity to Shakspeare's Mulberry, or the Boscobel Oak, and specimens of its wood have been worked into vases and other ornaments. In 1815, a great (1) [For Dr. Johnson's letter to the Right Honourable Charles Jenkinson, afterwards. Earl of Liverpool, see Life, vol. iii. p. 509.] (2) [Nos. 649 — 655. are from the Gentleman's Magazine.] KETT. 4f21 portion of the tree gave way, and since then several very- large boughs have fallen. The Doctor once took an ad- measurement of the tree with a piece of string, assisted by a little boy, to whom he gave half-a-crown for his trouble. The dimensions of the willow in 1781, when in its most flourishing condition, taken by Dr. Trevor Jones, and communicated in a letter to Dr. Johnson, are as fol- lows : — " The trunk rises to the height of twelve feet eight inches, and is then divided into fifteen large ascending branches, which, in very numerous and crowded subdivi- sions, spread at the top in a circular form, not unlike the appearance of a shady oak, inclining a little towards the east. The circumference of the trunk at the bottom is sixteen feet, in the middle eleven feet, and at the top, im- mediately below the branches, thirteen feet. The entire height of the tree is forty-nine feet, overshadowing a plain not far short of four thousand feet." (*) 650. Citations from Garrick. Boswell relates (says , a correspondent), that Garrick being asked by Johnson what people said of his Dictionary, told him, that among other animadversions, it was objected that he cited the 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." This anecdote induced me to turn over the leaves of his Dictionary, that I might note the ci- tations from each writer. Two only I found from Garrick, viz. "Our bard's & fabulist, and deals in fiction." e< I know you all expect, from seeing me, Some formal lecture, spoke with prudish face." The quotations from Richardson are at least eighty in number ; almost all from his Clarissa. 651. Johnsonian Words, In Kett's " Elements of General Knowledge," I read (says another correspondent) as follows : — " Our litera- (1) [For a drawing of Johnson's Willow, see Shaw's Staffordshire, and Gen- tleman's Magazine, vol. lv. ] E E 3 422 JOHNSONrANA. ture, indeed, dates a new era from the publication of Johnson's Works : many of his words are rarely to be met with in former writers, and some are purely of his 'own fabrication. Note, — f Resuscitation, orbity, volant, fatuity, divaricate, asinine, narcotic, vulnirary, empireumatic, obtund, disruption, sensory, cremation, horticulture, ger- mination, decussation, eximious/ &c. If these words be not peculiarly Johnson's, I know not where they are to be found ! " Now, upon turning over Johnson's Dic- tionary, I find all the above words occur in Pope, Bacon, Wilkins, Milton, Arbuthnot, Grew, Quincy, Wiseman, Harvey, Woodward, Newton, Glanville, and Ray : except horticulture, which may be found in Tusser's Husbandry ; eximious, in Lodge's Letters ; and cremation, for which, at present, I have no authority. So much for the research of Mr. Kett ! 652. " Prayers and Meditations" The brightest feature in Johnson's character was the perfect consciousness of his failings. This the Doctor seems to have had in the nicest degree : it always accom- panied him, and, joined to his irresolution, embittered many of his days and nights. If the publication of his Prayers and Meditations still wants to be justified, let it be on this score, that they prove Johnson to have been a man whose inward struggles were always directed to over- come habits of which he was painfully conscious ; that he did not seek to excuse those failings by the delusions of scepticism or sophistry, but that he prayed, resolved, and earnestly contended against them. What more have the greatest and best men in all ages done, though, perhaps, with better success ?( 1 ) (1) This and the following prayer are not in Mr. Strahan's collection : — "Easter-day, 15th April, 1759. " Almighty and most merciful Father, look down with pity upon my sins. I am a sinner, good Lord; but let not my sins burthen me for ever. Give me thy grace to break the chain of evil custom. Enable me to shake off idleness and sloth : to will and to do what thou hast commanded, grant me chaste in thoughts, words, and actions ; to love and frequent thy worship, to study and understand thy word ; to be diligent in my calling, that I may support myself and relieve others. " Forgive me, O Lord, whatever my mother has suffered by my fault, whatever I have done amiss, and whatever duty I have neglected. Let me not sink into CHALMERS. 423 653. " Ocean." A gentleman once told Dr. Johnson, that a friend of his, looking into the Dictionary which the Doctor had lately published, could not find the word ocean. " Not find ocean!" exclaimed our Lexicographer; " Sir, I doubt the veracity of your information!" He instantly stalked into his library ; and, opening the work in question with the utmost impatience, at last triumphantly put his finger upon the subject of research, adding, " There, Sir; there is ocean /" The gentleman was preparing to apolo- gise for the mistake ; but Dr. Johnson good-naturedly dismissed the subject, with " Never mind it, Sir; per- haps your friend spells ocean with an s." 654. Johnson's " Limce labor." (*) The general opinion entertained by Dr. Johnson's friends was, that he wrote as correctly and elegantly in haste, and under various obstructions of person and situa- tion, as other men can, who have health and ease and leisure for the limce labor. Mr. Boswell says, with great truth, that " posterity will be astonished when they are told, upon the authority of Johnson himself, that many useless dejection; but so sanctify my affliction, O Lord, that I may be converted, and healed ; and that, by the help of thy Holy Spirit, I may obtain everlasting life through Jesus Christ our Lord. " And, O Lord, so far as it may be lawful, I commend unto thy fatherly good- ness my father, brother, wife, and mother, beseeching thee to make them happy for Jesus Christ's sake. Amen." " SCRUPLES. " O Lord, who wouldst that all men should be saved, and who knowest that without thy grace we can do nothing acceptable to thee, have mercy upon me. Enable me to break the chains of my sins, to reject sensuality in thought, and to overcome and suppress vain scruples ; and to use such diligence in lawful employ- ment as may enable me to support myself and do good to others. O Lord, forgive me the time lost in idleness ; pardon the sins which I have committed, and grant that I may redeem the time misspent, and be reconciled to thee by true repentance, that I may live and die in peace, and be received to everlasting happiness. Take not from me, O Lord, thy Holy Spirit, but let me have sup- port and comfort for Jesus Christ's sake. Amen. " Transc. June 26. 1768. Of this prayer there is no date, nor can I conjec- ture when it was composed." (1) [From Alexander Chalmers's Historical and Biographical Preface to The Rambler : British Essayists, vol. xvii.] E E 4 424 JOHNSONIANA. of these discourses, which we should suppose had been laboured with all the slow attention of literary leisure, were written in haste as the moment pressed, without even being read over by him before they were printed." And Sir John Hawkins informs us, that these essays hardly ever underwent a revision before they were sent to the press ; and adds, " the original manuscripts of the c Rambler' have passed through my hands, and by the perusal of them I am warranted to say, as was said of Shakspeare by the players of his time, that he never blotted a line, and I believe without the risk of that retort which Ben Jonson made to them, ' Would he had blotted out a thousand !'■'' Such are the opinions of those friends of Dr. Johnson who had long lived in his society, had studied his writings, and were eager to give to the public every information by which its curiosity to know the history of so eminent a character might be gratified. But by what fatality it has happened, that they were ignorant of the vast labour Dr. Johnson employed in correcting this work after it came from the first press, it is not easy to determine. This circumstance indeed might not fall within the scope of Mr. Murphy's elegant essay ; but had it been known to Sir John Hawkins or to Mr. Boswell, they would undoubt- edly have been eager to bring it forward as a prominent part of Dr. Johnson's literary history. Mr. Boswell has given us some various readings of the " Lives of the Poets ;" and the reader will probably agree with him, that although the author's " amendments in that work are for the better, there is nothing of the pannus assutus : the texture is uniform, and indeed what had been there at first is very seldom unfit to have remained." ( ] ) At the conclusion x)f these various readings he offers an apology, of which I may be permitted to avail myself: " Should it be objected, that many of my various readings are incon- siderable, those who make the objection will be pleased to ( 1 ) These were the alterations made by the author in the manuscript, or in the proof before publication for the second edition. Mr. Boswell does not seem to have known that Dr. Johnson made so many alterations for the third edition, as to induce Mr. Nichols to collect them in an octavo pamphlet of three sheets closely printed, which was given to the purchasers of the second octavo edition.— Chalmers. CHALMERS. 425 consider that such small particulars are intended for those who are nicely critical in composition, to whom they will be an acceptable collection." Is it not surprising, that this friend and companion of our illustrious author, who has obliged the public with the most perfect delineation ever exhibited of any human being, and who declared so often that he was determined " To lose no drop of that immortal man ;" that one so inquisitive after the most trifling circumstance connected with Dr. Johnson's character or history, should have never heard or discovered that Dr. Johnson almost re-wrote the " Rambler" after the first folio edition ? Yet the fact was, that he employed the limce labor em not only on the second, but on the third edition, to an extent, I pre- sume, never known in the annals of literature, and may be said to have carried Horace's rule far beyond either its letter or spirit : « Vos O carmen reprehendite, quod non Multa dies et multa litura coercuit, atque Perfectum decies non castigavit ad unguem." " Never the verse approve and hold as good. Till many a day and many a blot has wrought The polish'd work, and chasten'd ev'ry thought, By tenfold labour to perfection brought." The alterations made by Dr. Johnson in the second and third editions of the " Rambler" far exceed six thousand; a number which may perhaps justify the use of the word re-wrote, although it must not be taken in its literal ac- ceptation. If it be asked, of what nature are these alter- ations, or why that was altered which the world thought perfect, the author may be allowed to answer for himself. Notwithstanding its fame while printing in single numbers, the encomiums of the learned, and the applause of friends, he knew its imperfections, and determined, to remove them. He foresaw that upon this foundation his future fame would rest, and he determined that the superstruc- ture thrown up in haste should be strengthened and per- 426 JOHNSONIANA. fected at leisure. A few passages from No. 169. will explain his sentiments on this subject : — " Men have sometimes appeared, of such transcendent abilities, that their slightest and most cursory performances excel all that labour and study can enable meaner intellects to compose ; as there are regions of which the spontaneous products cannot be equalled in other soils by care and culture. But it is no less dangerous for any man to place himself in this rank of understanding, and fancy that he is born to be illustrious without labour, than to omit the cares of husbandry, and expect from his ground the blossoms of Arabia." — " Among the writers of antiquity I remember none except Statius, who ventures to mention the speedy production of his writings, either as an extenuation of his faults^ or as a proof of his facility. Nor did Statius, when he consi- dered himself as a candidate for lasting reputation, think a closer atten- tion unnecessary ; but amidst all his pride and indigence, the two great hasteners of modern poems, employed twelve years upon the Thebaid, and thinks his claim to renown proportionate to his labour." — " To him whose eagerness of praise hurries his productions soon into the light, many imperfections are unavoidable, even where the mind fur- nishes the materials, as well as regulates their disposition, and nothing depends upon search or information. Delay opens new veins of thought, the subject dismissed for a time appears with a new train of dependent images, the accidents of reading or conversation supply new ornaments or allusions, or mere intermission of the fatigue of thinking enables the mind to collect new force and make new excursions." With such sentiments it must appear at least probable, that our author would, in his own case, endeavour to repair the mischiefs of haste or negligence ; but as these were not very obvious to his friends, they made no inquiry after them, nor entertained any suspicion of the labour he en- dured to render his writings more worthy of their praise ; and when his contemporaries had departed, he might not think it necessary to tell a new generation that he had not reached perfection at once. — On one occasion Mr. Bos- well came so near the question, that if Dr. Johnson had thought it worth entering upon, he had a very fair oppor- tunity. Being asked by a lady, whether he thought he could make his Rambler better, he answered that he cer- tainly could. Boswell. " I'll lay you 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." Boswell. " But you may add to them ; I will not allow of that." Johnson. " Nay, Sir, there are three CROKER. 427 ways of making them better, — putting out, adding, or correcting," (*) 655. Donne v. Pope. ( 2 ) The late Mr. Crauford, of Hyde Park Corner, being engaged to dinner, where Dr. Johnson was to be, resolved to pay his court to him ; and, having heard that he pre- ferred Donne's Satires to Pope's version of them, said, " Do you know, Dr. Johnson, that I like Dr. Donne's ori- ginal Satires better than Pope's." Johnson said, " Well, Sir, I can't help that." 656. Music. — King David. Miss Johnson, one of Sir Joshua's nieces (afterwards Mrs. Deane), was dining one day at her uncle's with Dr. Johnson and a large party : the conversation happening to turn on music, Johnson spoke very contemptuously of that art, and added, " that no man of talent, or whose mind was capable of better things, ever would or could devote his time and attention to so idle and frivolous a pursuit." The young lady, who was very fond of music, whispered her next neighbour, " I wonder what Dr. Johnson thinks of King David." Johnson overheard her, and, with great good humour and complacency, said, " Madam, I thank you ; I stand rebuked before you, and promise that, on one subject at least, you shall never hear me talk nonsense again." 657. Pleasure of Hunting. The honours of the University of Cambridge were once performed to Dr. Johnson, by Dr. Watson, afterwards Bishop of LlandafF, and then Professor of Chemistry, &c.( 3 ) After having spent the morning in seeing all that was worthy of notice, the sage dined at his conductor's table, which was surrounded by various persons, all anxious to see so remarkable a character, but the moment was not (1) [In corroboration of his assertions, Mr. Chalmers has transcribed No. 1 80. of the original folio Rambler, marking the variations by italics. (2) [This and the six following scraps were communicated to Mr. Croker.] (3) [Dr. Watson was a fellow of Trinity. See Life, vol. i. p. 500. an account of this visit to Cambridge, which occurred in Feb. 1765. — C] 428 JOHNSONIANA. favourable ; he had been wearied by his previous exertions, and would not talk. After the party had dispersed, he said, " I was tired and would not take the trouble, or I could have set them right upon several subjects, Sir ; for instance, the gentleman who said he could not imagine how any pleasure could be derived from hunting, — the reason is, because man feels his own vacuity less in action than when at rest." 658. Johnson in a Stage Coach, Mr. Williams, the rector of Wellesbourne, in Warwick- shire, mentioned having once, when a young man, per- formed a stage-coach journey with Dr. Johnson, who took his place in the vehicle, provided with a little book, which his companion soon discovered to be Lucian : he occa- sionally threw it aside, if struck by any remark made by his fellow travellers, and poured forth his knowledge and eloquence in a full stream, to the delight and astonishment of his auditors. Accidentally, the first subject which attracted him was the digestive faculties of dogs, from whence he branched off as to the powers of digestion in various species of animals, discovering such stores of in- formation, that this particular point might have been sup- posed to have formed his especial study, and so it was with every other subject started. The strength of his memory was not less astonishing than his eloquence ; he quoted from various authors, either in support of his own argu- ment or to confute those of his companions, as readily, and apparently as accurately, as if the works had been in his hands. The coach halted, as usual, for dinner, which seemed to be a deeply interesting business to Johnson, who vehemently attacked a dish of stewed carp, using his fingers only in feeding himself. 659. " Pilgrim 9 s Progress 99 Bishop Percy was at one time on a very intimate foot- ing with Dr. Johnson, and the Doctor one day took Percy's little daughter (*) upon his knee, and asked her what she thought of " Pilgrim's Progress ? " The child answered, (1) [Afterwards Mrs. Isted, of Ecton, Northamptonshire. — C] FISHER. 429 that she had not read it. " No ! " replied the Doctor, " then I would not give one farthing* for you ;" and he set her down and took no further notice of her. 660. Dinner at University, My venerable friend, Dr. Fisher, of the Charter-house, now in his eighty-fifth year, informs me (says Mr. Croker) that he was one of the party who dined with Dr. John- son at University College, Oxford, in March, 177 6. O There were present, he says, Dr. Wetherell, Johnson, Boswell, Coulson, Scott, Gwynn, Dr. Chandler the tra- veller, and Fisher, then a young Fellow of the College. He recollects one passage of the conversation at dinner : — Boswell quoted " Quern Deus vult perdere prius demen- ted" and asked where it was. After a pause Dr. Chandler said in Horace, — another pause ; then Fisher remarked, that he knew no metre in Horace to which the words could be reduced ; upon which Johnson said dictatorially, " The young man is right." Dr. Fisher recollects another conversation during this visit to Oxford, when there was a Mr. Mortimer, a shallow, vulgar man, who had no sense of Johnson's superiority, and talked a great deal of flippant nonsense. At last he said, that " metaphysics were all stuff — nothing but vague words." " Sir," said Johnson, " do you know the meaning of the word meta- physics ?" " To be sure," said the other. " Then, Sir, you must know that two and two make four, is a meta- physical proposition." — " I deny it," rejoined Mortimer, " 9 t is an arithmetical one ; I deny it utterly." " Why, then Sir," said Johnson, " if you deny that we arrive at that conclusion by a metaphysical process, I can only say, that plus in una horcl unus asinus ?ieyabit, quam centum philpsophi in centum annis probaverint" 661. Langton on Johnson's Death. The following letter was written with an agitated hand, from the very chamber of death, by the amiable Bennet Langton, and obviously interrupted by his feelings. It is (1) [See Life, vol. iii. p.329.] 430 JOHNSONIANA. not addressed, but Mr. Langton's family believe it was intended for Mr. Boswell : " My dear Sir, — After many conflicting hopes and fears respecting the event of this heavy return of illness which has assailed our honoured friend Dr. Johnson, since his arrival from Lichfield, about four days ago the appearances grew more and more awful, and this afternoon at eight o'clock, when I arrived at his house to see how he should be going on, I was acquainted at the door, that about three quarters of an hour before, he had breathed his last. I am now writing in the room where his venerable remains exhibit a spectacle, the interesting solemnity of which, difficult as it would be in any sort to find terms to express, so to you, my dear Sir, whose own sensations will paint it so strongly, it would be of all men the most superfluous to attempt to ." 662. Johnson at Oxford. — Kettel-Hall. When Johnson, in the year 17*54, made an excursion to Oxford for the purpose of consulting the libraries, preparatory to the publication of his Dictionary, he took up his residence at Kettel-Hall ; a building originally intended for the use of the commoners of Trinity, with which college it had a communication. " This was the first time," says Mr. Thomas Warton, " of the Doctor's being there after quitting the University. I went with him to his old college, Pembroke. He was highly pleased to find all the college servants which he had left there still remaining, particularly a very old butler ; and ex- pressed great satisfaction at being recognised by them, and conversed with them familiarly. He waited on the master, Dr. Ratcliffe, who received him very coldly. Johnson at least expected that the master would order a copy of his Dictionary, now near publication ; but the master did not choose to talk on the subject, never asked Johnson to dine, nor even to visit him while he staid at college. After we had left the lodgings, Johnson said to me, ' There lives a man who lives by the revenues of liter- ature, and will not move a finger to support it : if I come to live at Oxford, I shall take up my abode at Trinity.' " 663. Preface to Shakspeare. ( ! ) It would be difficult to find in the English language, of equal variety and length, four such compositions as Burke's (1) [This and the seven following are from " The Diary of a Lover of Literature," by T. Green of Ipswich, 4to. 1810 ; and since continued in the Gentleman's Magazine.] U^KU^ £y^ Ljf~ L. Qz-t^/trO l£- ■ *rf t vfr eye- <*^> 1fo~ ±*jui aged 63 years. He had not only the amiable qualities of private life, but such astonishing dramatic talents, as too well verified the observation of his friend, - " His death eclipsed the gaiety of nations, and impoverished the public stock of harmless pleasure." 701. Johnson's Parents. Of Michael Johnson little is generally known, beyond the fact that he was a tradesman at Lichfield ; and no attempt has hitherto been made to bring into one point the few particulars concerning him that lie scattered through various volumes. Yet this would appear to be a mark of respect due, if not to his own merit, to that of his ad- mirable son ; and in the hope that it may incite some one to undertake a more finished composition, the subjoined outline of a memoir has been compiled. He was a native of Derbyshire ; but of origin so ob- scure, that Dr. Johnson once said to Bos well, " I have [CIS] a 1 i, FOHMSd JOHNSONIANA. 465 great merit in being- zealous for the honours of birth, for I can hardly tell who was my grandfather." He married, at a somewhat advanced age, one Sarah Ford, by whom he had two sons ; but the period of his settling at Lichfield is doubtful, though it certainly was some time prior to the close of the seventeenth century, as I find his name anno 1687, in a list of subscribers to a fund for recasting the bells of the Cathedral, towards which he contributed 10*. In 1709 he was sheriff of the city ; and in the same year was born his celebrated son, whose baptism is thus recorded in the Register of St. Michael's Church : — " Sept. 17. 1709, Samuel, son of Michael Johnson, Gent., baptized.' One of his godfathers was Dr. Swinfen, a physician of the city. Three years after, the baptism of his brother is thus entered in the same Register : — "Oct. 14. 1712, Nathaniel, son of Mr. Michael Johnson, baptized." The circumstances of Michael Johnson appear to have been for many years extremely narrow ; but by untiring industry, he at length acquired some little property, which he lost by speculating in the manufacture of parchment, and became a bankrupt in 1731, while his son Samuel was at Oxford. The generous assistance which on this occasion he received from various quarters, seems to prove that his character was held in great esteem. Dr. Johnson told Sir John Hawkins that, amongst others, Mr. Innys, bookseller of St. Paul's Church-yard, was a material friend ; " and this," said he, " I consider as an obligation on me to be grateful to his descendants," to whom he accordingly bequeathed %00l. Soon after his insolvency took place, Michael died, and the sum of 20/. was all that his son received from the produce of his effects. It is a fact but little known, and which escaped the in- dustrious inquiry of Bos well, that during the two years which he passed at home, before proceeding to Oxford, Dr. Johnson was engaged in learning his father's business. The " Short Account of Lichfield," 1819, says that " books of his binding are still extant in that city." It w T as at this period, I presume, that in a fit of pride he once H H 466 JOHNSONIANA. refused obedience to his father, who desired him to attend the book-stall at Uttoxeter market ; in contrition for which, towards the close of his life, (as he told the Rev. H. White,) he repaired to the spot, and stood for a considerable time bareheaded in the rain, by way of expiatory penance. The house at the corner of Sadler Street, Lichfield, in which Michael Johnson resided, and in which Samuel was bom, is still standing. Views of it occur in the Gentle- man's Magazine, February, 1785 ; in the " Short Account of Lichfield," above mentioned ; and in various other works. It was built by Michael Johnson on land belong- ing to the Corporation, in whose records there appears this entry, under date 13th July, 1708 : — " Agreed that Mr. Michael Johnson, bookseller, have a lease of his encroach- ment of his house in Sadler Street and Women's Cheaping, for forty years, at 2s. 6d. per annum." Bos well has pre- served the particulars of a proceeding, in which the bailiffs and citizens, to their great honour, on the expiration of a second lease in 1767> resolved that it should be renewed to Dr. Johnson for a further term of ninety years, at the old rent, and without payment of any fine. After her husband's decease, Johnson's mother continued the busi- ness, though of course on a more contracted scale. Among the names of subscribers to the " Harleian Miscellany," there occurs that of " Sarah Johnson, bookseller in Lich- field.'X 1 ) 702. " Looking at the Backs of Books " When Johnson, in April 1775, visited Richard Owen Cambridge, Esq.( 2 ) at his villa, near Twickenham, no (1) [Gent. Mag. Oct. 1829.] (2) [Richard Owen Cambridge, Esq. author of the " Scribleriad," a mock heroic poem, and of several essays in "The World." Boswell has thus sketched his character: — '« If a beautiful villa on the banks of the Thames, a numerous and excellent library, 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 acquaintance distinguished by rank, fashion, and genius, a literary fame, various, elegant, 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 addressed 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!" Mr. Cambridge died, September 17. 1802, in his eighty-sixth year.] JOHNSONIANA. 467 sooner had he made his bow to his host in his library, than he ran eagerly to one side of the room, intent on poring over the backs of the books. Mr. Cambridge po- litely said, " Dr. Johnson, I am going, with your pardon, to accuse myself, for I have the same custom that I per- ceive you have. But it seems odd that we should have such a desire to look at the backs of books." " Sir," re- plied Johnson, "the reason is very plain. Knowledge is of two kinds. We know a subject ourselves, or we know where we can find information upon it. When we inquire into any subject, the first 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." 703. Singular Misquotation. There is a curious error in Dr. Johnson's Dictionary which has not hitherto been noticed. It occurs in De- finition 13. of the verb " To sit," and pervades every edition that we have yet seen, even Mr. Todd's. " Asses are ye that sit in judgment. Judges, v. 10." The verse is — " Speak, ye that ride on white asses, ye that sit in judgment, and walk by the way." Were not Dr. John- son's reverence for the Scriptures too well known to allow us to imagine that he would wilfully pervert them ; we might suppose that he, who gave the definition of Excise and Renegado, had intended, by anticipation, to express his opinion of the censure of his critics. H H C Z 468 Part XXXIII. JEUX D'ESPRIT ON JOHNSON'S BIO- GRAPIIERS. ' No. I.— LESSON IN BIOGRAPHY. OR, HOW TO WRITE THE LIFE OF ONE'S FRIEND. (An Extract front the Life of Dr. Pozz, in ten volumes folio, written by James Bozz, Esq., who flourished with him near fifty years.) By Alexander Chalmers, Esq. ( ! ) We dined at the chop-house. Dr. Pozz was this day very instructive. We talked of books. I mentioned the History of Tommy Trip. I said it was a great work. Pozz. " Yes, Sir, it is a great work ; but, Sir, it is a great work relatively ; it was a great work to you when you was a little boy : but now, Sir, you are a great man, and Tommy Trip is a little boy." I felt somewhat hurt at this comparison, and I believe he perceived it ; for, as he was squeezing a lemon, he said, " Never be affronted at a comparison. I have been compared to many things, but I never was affronted. No, Sir, if they would call me a dog, and you a canister tied to my tail, I would not be affronted." Cheered by this kind mention of me, though in such a situation, I asked him what he thought of a friend of ours, who was always making comparisons. Pozz. " Sir, (1) [Among the numerous parodies and jeux (T esprit which Mr. Bos well's work produced, this pleasantry from the pen of Mr. Alexander Chalmers, which appeared in the periodical publications of the day, is worth preserving ; for it is not merely a good pleasantry, but a fair criticism of some of the lighter parts of the work. — C] JEUX d'eSPRIT CHALMERS. 469 that fellow has a simile for every thing but himself. I knew him when he kept a shop : he then made money, Sir, and now he makes comparisons. Sir, he would say that you and I were two figs stuck together ; two figs in adhesion, Sir ; and then he would laugh." Bozz. " But have not some great writers determined that comparisons are now and then odious?" Pozz. " No, Sir, not odious in themselves, not odious as comparisons ; the fellows who make them are odious. The Whigs make compari- sons." We supped that evening at his house. I showed him some lines I had made upon a pair of breeches. Pozz. " Sir, the lines are good ; but where could you find such a subject in your country?'' Bozz. " Therefore it is a proof of invention, which is a characteristic of poetry." Pozz. "Yes, Sir, but an invention which few of your countrymen can enjoy." I reflected afterwards on the depth of this remark : it affords a proof of that acuteness which he displayed in every branch of literature. I asked him if he approved of green spectacles ? Pozz. "As to green spectacles, Sir, the question seems to be this : if I wore green spectacles, it would be because they assisted vision, or because I liked them. Now, Sir, if a man tells me he does not like green spectacles, and that they hurt his eyes, I would not compel him to wear them. No, Sir, I would dissuade him." A few months after, I consulted him again on this subject, and he honoured me with a letter, in which he gives the same opinion. It will be found in its proper place, Vol. VI. p. 2789. I have thought much on this subject, and must confess that in such matters a man ought to be a free moral agent. Next day I left town, and was absent for six weeks, three days, and seven hours, as I find by a memorandum in my journal. In this time I had only one letter from him, which is as follows : — "TO JAMES BOZZ, ESQ. te Dear Sir, — My bowels have been very bad. Pray buy me some Turkey rhubarb, and bring with you a copy of your ' Tour/ " Write to me soon, and write to me often. I am, dear Sir, yours affectionately, Sam. Pozz.'' H H 3 470 JOHNSONIANA. It would have been unpardonable to have omitted a letter like this, in which we see so much of his great and illuminated mind. On my return to town, we met again at the chop-house. We had much conversation to-day : his wit flashed like lightning : indeed, there is not one hour of my present life in which I do not profit by some of his valuable communications. We talked of wind, I said I knew many persons much distressed with that complaint. Pozz. " Yes, Sir, when confined, when pent up." I said I did not know that, but I questioned if the Romans ever knew it. Pozz. " Yes, Sir, the Romans knew it." Bozz. " Livy does not men- tion it." Pozz. " No, Sir, Livy wrote History. Livy was not writing the Life of a Friend." On medical subjects his knowledge was immense. He told me of a friend of ours who had just been attacked by a most dreadful complaint : he had entirely lost the use of his limbs, so that he could neither stand or walk, unless supported ; his speech was quite gone ; his eyes were much swollen, and every vein distended, yet his face was rather pale, and his extremities cold ; his pulse beat 160 in a minute. I said, with tenderness, that I would go and see him ; and, said I, " Sir, I will take Dr. Bolus with me." Pozz. "No, Sir, don't go." I was startled, for I knew his compassionate heart, and earnestly asked why ? Pozz. " Sir, you don't know his disorder." Bozz. " Pray what is it?" Pozz. " Sir, the man is — dead drunk/ 99 This explanation threw me into a violent fit of laughter, in which he joined me, rolling about as he used to do when he en- joyed a joke ; but he afterwards checked me. Pozz. " Sir, you ought not to laugh at what I said. Sir, he who laughs at what another man says, will soon learn to laugh at that other man. Sir, you should laugh only at your own jokes ; you should laugh seldom." We talked of a friend of ours who was a very violent politician. I said I did not like his company. Pozz. " No, Sir, he is not healthy ; he is sore, Sir ; his mind is ulcerated , he has a political witlow ; Sir, you cannot touch him without giving him pain. Sir, I would not talk po- litics with that man ; I would talk of cabbage and peas ; JEUX d'eSPRIT CHALMERS. 471 Sir, I would ask him how he got his corn in, and whe- ther his wife was with child ; but I would not talk poli- tics." Bozz. " But perhaps, Sir, he would talk of nothing else." Pozz. " Then, Sir, it is plain what he would do." On my very earnestly inquiring what that was, Dr. Pozz answered, " Sir, he would let it alone." I mentioned a tradesman who had lately set up his coach. Pozz. " He is right, Sir ; a man who would go on swimmingly cannot get too soon off his legs. That man keeps his coach. Now, Sir, a coach is better than a chaise, Sir — it is better than a chariot." Bozz. " Why, Sir?" Pozz. "Sir, it will hold more." I begged he would repeat this, that I might remember it, and he com- plied with great good humour. " Dr. Pozz," said I, " you ought to keep a coach." Pozz. " Yes, Sir, I ought." Bozz. "But you do not, and that has often surprised me." Bozz. " Surprised you ! There Sir, is another preju- dice of absurdity. Sir, you ought to be surprised at no- thing. A man that has lived half your days ought to be above all surprise. Sir, it is a rule with me never to be surprised. It is mere ignorance ; you cannot guess why I do not keep a coach, and you are surprised. Now, Sir, if you did know, you would not be surprised." I said, tenderly, " I hope, my dear Sir, you will let me know before I leave town." Pozz. " Yes, Sir, you shall know now. You shall not go to Mr. Wilkins, and to Mr. Jen- kins, and to Mr. Stubbs, and say, why does not Pozz keep a coach ? I will tell you myself — Sir, I can't afford it." We talked of drinking. I asked him whether, in the course of his long and valuable life, he had not known some men who drank more than they could bear ? Pozz. " Yes, Sir ; and then, Sir, nobody could bear them. A man who is drunk, Sir, is a very foolish fellow." Bozz. " But, Sir, as the poet says, 'he is devoid of all care.'" Pozz. "Yes, Sir, he cares for nobody; he has none of the cares of life : he cannot be a merchant, Sir, for he cannot write his name ; he cannot be a politician, Sir, for he cannot talk ; he cannot be an artist, Sir, for he cannot see ; and yet, Sir, there is science in drinking." Bozz. H H 4 472 JOHNSONIANA. " 1 suppose you mean that a man ought to know what he drinks," Pozz. " No, Sir, to know what one drinks is nothing ; but the science consists of three parts. Now, Sir, were I to drink wine, I should wish to know them all ; I should wish to know when I had too little, when I had enough, and when I had too much. There is our friend ******* (mentioning a gentleman of our acquaint- ance); he knows when he has too little, and when he has too much, but he knows not when he has enough. Now, Sir, that is the science of drinking, to know when one has enough." We talked this day of a variety of topics, but I find very few memorandums in my journal. On small beer, he said it was flatulent liquor. He disapproved of those who deny the utility of absolute power, and seemed to be offended with a friend of ours who would always have his eggs poached. Sign-posts, he observed, had degenerated within his memory ; and he particularly found fault with the moral of the " Beggar's Opera." I endeavoured to defend a work which had afforded me so much pleasure, but could not master that strength of mind with which he argued ; and it was with great satisfaction that he com- municated to me afterwards a method of curing corns by applying a piece of oiled silk. In the early history of the world, he preferred Sir Isaac Newton's Chronology ; but as they gave employment to useful artisans, he did not dislike the large buckles then coming into use. Next day we dined at the Mitre. I mentioned spirits. Pozz. " Sir, there is as much evidence for the existence of spirits as against it. You may not believe it, but you cannot deny it." I told him that my great grandmother once saw a spirit. He asked me to relate it, which I did very minutely, while he listened with profound attention. When I mentioned that 4he spirit once appeared in the shape of a shoulder of mutton, and another time in that of a tea-pot, he interrupted me : — Pozz. " There, Sir, is the point ; the evidence is good, but the scheme is defective in consistency. We cannot deny that the spirit appeared in these shapes ; but then we cannot reconcile them. What has a tea-pot to do with a shoulder of mutton ? Neither is it a terrific object. There is nothing contemporaneous. JEUX D'ESPRIT CHALMERS. 473 Sir, these are objects which are not seen at the same time nor in the same place." Bozz. " I think, Sir, that old women in general are used to see ghosts." Pozz. " Yes, Sir, and their conversation is full of the subject : I would have an old woman to record such conversations ; their loquacity tends to minuteness." We talked of a person who had a very bad character. Pozz. " Sir, he is a scoundrel." Bozz. " I hate a scoun- drel." Pozz. " There you are wrong- : don't hate scoundrels. Scoundrels, Sir, are useful. There are many things we cannot do without scoundrels. I would not choose to keep company with scoundrels, but something may be got from them." Bozz. " Are not scoundrels generally fools ?" Pozz. " No, Sir, they are not. A scoundrel must be a clever fellow ; he must know many things of which a fool is ignorant. Any man may be a fool. I think a good book might be made out of scoundrels. I would have a Biographia Flagitiosa, the Lives of Eminent Scoundrels, from the earliest accounts to the present day." I mentioned hanging : I thought it a very awkward situation. Pozz. "No, Sir, hanging is not an awkward situation ; it is proper, Sir, that a man whose actions tend towards flagitious obliquity should appear perpendicular at last." I told him that I had lately been in company with some gentlemen, every one of whom could recollect some friend or other who had been hanged. Pozz. "Yes, Sir, that is the easiest way. We know those who have been hanged ; we can recollect that : but we cannot number those who deserve it ; it would not be decorous, Sir, in a mixed company. No, Sir, that is one of the few things which we are compelled to think" Our regard for literary property ( l ) prevents our making a larger extract from the above important work. We have, however, ive hope, given such passages as will tend to impress our readers with a high idea of this vast undertaking. — Note by the Author. (1) [This alludes to the jealousy about copyright, which Mr. Boswell carried so far that, he actually printed separately, and entered at Stationers' Hall, John- son's Letter to Lord Chesterfield, and the account of Johnson's Conversation with George III. at Buckingham House, to prevent his rivals making use of them. — C] 4«74 JOIINSONIANA. No. II. — DR. JOHNSON'S GHOST. [From the Gentleman's Magazine, vol. Ivi. p. 427.] ' Twas at the solemn hour of night When men and spirits meet, That Johnson, huge majestic sprite, Repair'd to Boswell's feet. His face was like the full-orb'd moon Wrapt in a threatening cloud, That bodes the tempest bursting soon, And winds that bluster loud. Terrific was his angry look, His pendent eyebrows frown'd ; Thrice in his hand he wav'd a book, Then dash'd it on the ground. " Behold," he cry'd, " perfidious man ! This object of my rage : Bethink thee of the sordid plan That form'd this venal page. " Was it to make this base record, That you my friendship sought ; Thus to retain each vagrant word, Each undigested thought ? ie Dar'st thou pretend that, meaning praise, Thou seek'st to raise my name ; When all thy babbling pen betrays But gives me churlish fame ? " Do readers in these annals trace The man that's wise and good ? No ! — rather one of savage race, Illib'ral, fierce, and rude : " A traveller, whose discontent No kindness can appease ; Who finds for spleen perpetual vent In all he hears and sees : " One whose ingratitude displays The most ungracious guest ; Who hospitality repays With bitter, biting jest. JEUX D'ESPRIT COLMAN. 47<5 " Ah ! would, as o'er the hills we sped, And climb'd the sterile rocks, me vengeful stone had struck thee dead, Or steeple, spar'd by Knox ! " Thy adulation now I see, And all its schemes unfold : Thy av'rice, Bos well, cherish'd me, To turn me into gold. " So keepers guard the beasts they show, And for their wants provide; Attend their steps where'er they go, And travel by their side. " O ! were it not that, deep and low, Beyond thy reach I'm laid, Rapacious Boswell had ere now Johnson a mummy made." He ceas'd, and stalk'd from Boswell's sight With fierce indignant mien, Scornful as Ajax' sullen sprite, By sage Ulysses seen. Dead paleness Boswell's cheek o'erspread, His limbs with horrow shook ; With trembling haste he left his bed, And burnt his fatal book. And thrice he call'd on Johnson's name, Forgiveness to implore ! Then thrice repeated — ' ' injured fame !" And word — wrote never more. No. III. — A POSTHUMOUS WORK OF S. JOHNSON. An Ode. April 15. 1786. By George Colman, Esq. St. Paul's deep bell, from stately tow'r, Had sounded once and twice the hour, Blue burnt the midnight taper ; Hags their dark spells o'er cauldron brew'd, While Sons of Ink their work pursu'd, Printing the Morning Paper. 476 JOHNSONIANA. Say, Herald, Chronicle, or Post, Which then beheld great Johnson's Ghost, Grim, horrible, and squalid ? Compositors their letters dropt, Pressmen their groaning engine stopt, And Devils all grew pallid. Enough ! the Spectre cried ; Enough ! No more of your fugacious stuff, Trite Anecdotes and Stories ; Rude Martyrs of Sam. Johnson's name, You rob him of his honest fame, And tarnish all his glories. First in the futile tribe is seen Tom Tyers in the Magazine, That teazer of Apollo ! With goose- quill he, like desperate knife, Slices, as Vauxhall beef, my life, And calls the town to swallow. The cry once up, the Dogs of News, Who hunt for paragraphs the stews, Yelp out Johnsoniana ! Their nauseous praise but moves my bile, Like Tartar, Carduus, Camomile, Or Ipecacuanha. Next Boswell comes (for 't was my lot To find at last one honest Scot); With constitutional vivacity ; Yet garrulous, he tells too much, On fancied failings prone to touch, With sedulous loquacity. At length — Job's patience it would tire — Brew'd on my lees, comes Thrale's Entire, Straining to draw my picture ; For She a common-place book kept, Johnson at Streatham dined and slept, And who shall contradict her ? Thrale, lost 'mongst Fidlers and Sopranos, With them play Fortes and Pianos, Adagio and Allegro ! I lov'd Thrale's widow and Thrale's wife ; But now, believe, to write my life I'd rather trust my negro. ( ] ) His black servant. JEUX d'eSPRIT PETER PINDAR. 477 I gave the Public works of merit, Written with vigour, fraught with spirit; Applause crown'd all rny labours : But thy delusive pages speak My palsied pow'rs, exhausted, weak, The scoff of friends and neighbours. They speak me insolent and rude, Light, trivial, puerile, and crude, The child of Pride and Vanity ; Poor Tuscan-like Improvisation Is but of English sense castration, And infantine inanity. Such idle rhymes, like Sybils' leaves, Kindly the scatt'ring wind receives ; The gath'rer proves a scorner. But hold ! I see the coming day ! — The Spectre said, and stalk'd away To sleep in Poets' Corner. No. IV.— A POETICAL AND CONGRATULATORY EPISTLE TO JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ. On his Journal of a Tour to the Hebrides, with the celebrated Doctor Johnson. By Peter Pindar, Esq. (i) — Tpwecrviv l€ov\£TO Kvdog ups^ai. Homer. O Boswell, Bozzy, Bruce, whate'er thy name, Thou mighty shark for anecdote and fame ; Thou jackall, leading lion Johnson forth, To eat M'Pherson 'midst his native North ; To frighten grave professors with his roar, And shake the Hebrides from shore to shore — All hail! — At length, ambitious Thane, thy rage To give one spark to Fame's bespangled page Is amply gratified — a thousand eyes Survey thy books with rapture and surprise ! Loud, of thy Tour, a thousand tongues have spoken, And wondered — - that thy bones were never broken ! (1) [Dr.Walcot, published in 1787.] 478 JOHNSONIANA. Triumphant thou through Time's vast gulf shalt sail The pilot of our literary whale ; Close to the classic Rambler shalt thou cling, Close as a supple courtier to a king ! Fate shall not shake thee off with all its power, Stuck like a bat to some old ivied tower. Nay, though thy Johnson ne'er had blessed thy eyes, Paoli's deeds had raised thee to the skies ! Yes I his broad wing had raised thee (no bad hack) A torn- tit, twittering on an eagle's back. Thou, curious scrapmonger, shalt live in song, When death hath still'd the rattle of thy tongue ; Even future babes to lisp thy name shall learn, And Bozzy join with Wood, and Tommy Hearn, Who drove the spiders from much prose and rhyme, And snatch'd old stories from the jaws of time. Sweet is thy page, I ween, that doth recite, How thou and Johnson, arm in arm one night, Marched through fair Edinburgh's Pactolian showers, Which Cloacina bountifully pours: How sweetly grumbled, too, was Sam's remark, " I smell you, master Bozzy, in the dark I " (!) Alas ! historians are confounded dull, A dim Bceotia reigns in every skull ; Mere beasts of burden, broken-winded, slow, Heavy as dromedaries, on they go, Whilst thou, a Will-o'-wisp, art here, art there, Wild darting coruscations every where. What tasteless mouth can gape, what eye can close, What head can nod, o'er thy enlivening prose ? Think not I flatter thee, my flippant friend ; For well I know that flattery would offend: Yet honest praise, I'm sure, thou wouldst not shun, Born with a stomach to digest a tun ! Who can refuse a smile, that reads thy page, Where surly Sam, inflamed with Tory rage, Nassau bescoundrels, and with anger big, Swears Whigs are rogues, and every rogue a Whig ? Who will not, too, thy pen's minutiw bless, That gives posterity the Rambler's dress ? Methinks I view his full, plain suit of brown, The large grey bushy wig, that grac'd his crown ; Black worsted stockings, little silver buckles ; And shirt, that had no ruffles for his knuckles. I mark the brown great-coat of cloth he wore, That two huge Patagonian pockets bore, (1) [" Mr. Johnson and I walked arm and arm, up the High Street, to my house in James's Court : it was a dusky night ; I could not prevent his being assailed by the evening effluvia of Edinburgh. As we marched slowly along, he grumbled in my ear, < I smell you in the dark.' " — Boswell.] JEUX D'ESPRIT PETER PINDAR. 479 Which Patagonians (wondrous to unfold!) ( L ) Would fairly both his Dictionaries hold. I see the Rambler on a large bay mare, Just like a Centaur, every danger dare ; On a full gallop dash the yielding wind ; The colt and Bozzy scampering close behind. Of Lady Lochbuy with what glee we read, Who offer'd Sam, for breakfast, cold sheep's head ; Who press'd, and worried by this dame so civil, Wished the sheep's head and woman's at the devil. I see you sailing both in Buchan's pot — Now storming an old woman and her cot, Who, terrified at each tremendous shape, Deem'd you two demons, ready for a rape: I see all marvelling at M'Leod's together, On Sam's remarks on whey, and tanning leather : At Corrichatachin's, the Lord knows how, I see thee, Bozzy, drunk as David's sow, And begging, with raised eyes and lengthen'd chin, Heaven not to damn thee for the deadly sin : I see, too, the stern moralist regale, And pen a Latin ode to Mrs.Thrale. I see, without a night-cap on his head, Rare sight ! bald Sam, in the Pretender's bed : I hear (what's wonderful !) unsought by studying, His classic dissertation upon pudding : Of provost Jopp I mark the marvelling face, Who gave the Rambler's freedom with a grace : I see, too, travelling from the Isle of Egg ; The humble servant of a horse's leg; And Snip, the tailor, from the Isle of Muck, Who stitch'd in Sky with tolerable luck : I see the horn, that drunkards must adore; The horn, the mighty horn of Rorie More ; And bloody shields, that guarded hearts in quarrels, Now guard from rats the milk and butter barrels. Methinks, the Caledonian dame I see, Familiar sitting on the Rambler's knee, Charming, with kisses sweet, the chuckling sage ; Melting, with sweetest smiles, the frost of age; Like Sol, who darts, at times, a cheerful ray, O'er the wan visage of a winter's day. " Do it again, my dear," I hear Sam cry, fC See, who first tires, (my charmer !) you or I." (1) [" He wore a full suit of plain brown clothes, a large bushy greyish wig, black worsted stockings, and silver buckles. Upon this tour, when journeying, he wore boots, and a very wide brown cloth great coat, with pockets which might almost have held the two volumes of his folio Dictionary ; and he carried in his hand a large English oak stick."— Boswell.] 480 JOHNSONIANA. I see thee stuffing, with a hand uncouth, An old dried whiting in thy Johnson's mouth ; - And lo ! I see, with all his might and main, Thy Johnson spit the whiting out again. Rare anecdotes ! ' t is anecdotes like these, That bring thee glory, and the million please ! On these shall future times delighted stare, Thou charming haberdasher of small ware ! Stewart and Robertson from thee shall learn The simple charms of history to discern : To thee fair history's palm shall Livy yield, And Tacitus to Bozzy leave the field ! Joe Miller's self, whose page such fun provokes, Shall quit his shroud, to grin at Bozzy's jokes ! ' How are we all with rapture touch'd, to see Where, when, and at what hour, you swallowed tea ; How, once, to grace this Asiatic treat, Came haddocks, which the Rambler could not eat ! Pleased on thy book thy sovereign's eyeballs roll, Who loves a gossip's story from his soul; Blest with the memory of the Persian king (1), He every body knows, and every thing ; Who's dead, who's married, what poor girl, beguiled, Hath lost a paramour and found a child ; Which gardener hath most cabbages and peas, And which old woman hath most hives of bees , Which farmer boasts the most prolific sows, Cocks, hens, geese, turkeys, goats, sheep, bulls, and cows ; Which barber best the ladies' locks can curl ; Which house in Windsor sells the finest purl ; Which chimney-sweep best beats in gold array, His brush and shovel, on the first of May ! Whose dancing dogs in rigadoons excel ; And whose the puppet show, that bears the bell: Which clever smith, the prettiest man-trap makes To save from thieves the royal ducks and drakes, The Guinea hens and peacocks with their eggs, And catch his loving subjects by the legs. O ! since the prince of gossips reads thy book, To what high honours may not Bozzy look ! The sunshine of his smile may soon be thine — Perchance, in converse thou may'st hear him shine. Perchance, to stamp thy merit through the nation, He begs of Johnson's Life, thy dedication ; Asks questions ( 2 ) of thee, O thou lucky elf, And kindly answers every one himself. (1) Cyrus. (2) Just after Dr. Johnson had been honoured with an interview with a cer- tain great personage, in the Queen's Library at Buckingham House, he was JEUX d'eSPRIT — PETER PINDAR. 481 Blest with the classic learning of a college, Our king is not a miser in his knowledge : Nought in the storehouse of his brains turns musty: No razor- wit, for want of use, grows rusty ; Whate'er his head suggests, whate'er he knows, Free as election beer from tubs it flows. Yet, ah ! superior far ! — it boasts the merit Of never fuddling people with the spirit. Say, Bozzy, when, to bless our anxious sight, When shall thy volume (1) burst the gates of light ? O ! clothed in calf, ambitious brat, be born — Our kitchens, parlours, libraries adorn ! O Bozzy, still thy tell-tale plan pursue : The world is wondrous fond of something new : And, let but Scandal's breath embalm the page, It lives a welcome guest from age to age. Not only say who breathes an arrant knave, But who hath sneaked a rascal to his grave : Without a fear on families harangue, Say who shall lose their ears, and who shall hang ; Thy brilliant brain conjecture can supply, To charm through every leaf the eager eye. The blue-stocking society describe, And give thy comment on each joke and gibe : Tell what the women are, their wit, their quality, And dip them in thy streams of immortality. Let Lord Mac Donald threat thy breech to kick, And o'er thy shrinking shoulders shake his stick ; Treat with contempt the menace of this lord, 'Tis History's province, Bozzy, to record. Though Wilkes abuse thy brain, that airy mill, And swear poor Johnson murder'd by thy quill ; What's that to thee? Why, let the victim bleed — Thy end is answer'd if the nation read. The fiddling knight, and tuneful Mrs. Thrale, Who frequent hobbed or nobbed with Sam in ale, Snatch up the pen (as thirst of fame inspires) To write his jokes and stories by their fires ; Then why not thou each joke and tale enrol, Who, like a watchful cat before a hole, Full twenty years, inflamed with letter'd pride, Didst mousing sit before Sam's mouth so wide, To catch as many scraps as thou wert able — A very Lazarus at the rich man's table ? interrogated by a friend, concerning his reception, and his opinion of the royal intellect. — " His Majesty seems to be possessed of much goodnature, and much curiosity," replied the Doctor ; " as for his vovs it is far from contemp- tible. His Majesty, indeed, was multifarious in his questions ; but, thank God, he answered them all himself." (1) The Life of Dr. Johnson. I 1 482 JOHNSONIANA. What though against thee porters bounce the door, And bid thee hunt for secrets there no more, With pen and ink so ready at thy coat, Exciseman-like, each syllable to note, That given to printer's devils (a precious load ! ) On wings of print comes flying all abroad. Watch then the venal valets — smack the maids, And try with gold to make them rogues and jades : Yet should their honesty thy bribes resent, Fly to thy fertile genius and invent : Like old Voltaire, who placed his greatest glory In cooking up an entertaining story ; Who laugh'd at Truth, whene'er her simple tongue Would snatch amusement from a tale or song. O ! whilst amid the anecdotic mine, Thou labour'st hard to bid thy hero shine, Run to Bolt Court, exert thy Curl-like soul, And fish for golden leaves from hole to hole : On tales, however strange, impose thy claw ; Yes, let thy amber lick up every straw ; Sam's nods, and winks, and laughs, will form a treat ; For all that breathes of Johnson must be great ! Bless'd be thy labours, most adventurous Bozzy, Bold rival of Sir John, and Dame Piozzi ; Heavens ! with what laurels shall thy head be crown'd ! A grove, a forest, shall thy ears surround. Yes ! whilst the Rambler shall a comet blaze, And gild a world of darkness with his rays, Thee too that world with wonderment shall hail, A lively, bouncing cracker at his tail. JEUX D'ESPRIT — PETER PINDAR. 483 Postscript. As Mr. Boswelf s Journal has afforded such universal pleasure by the relation of minute incidents, and the great moralist's opinion of men and things, during his northern tour ; it will be adding greatly to the anecdotical treasury, as well as making Mr. B. happy, to communicate part of a Dialogue that took place between Dr. Johnson and the author of this Congratulatory Epistle, a few months before the Doctor paid the great debt of nature. The Doctor was very cheerful on that day ; had on a black coat and waistcoat, a black plush pair of breeches, and black worsted stockings; a handsome grey wig, a shirt, a muslin neckcloth, a black pair of buttons in his shirt sleeves, a pair of shoes ornamented with the very identical little buckles that accompanied the philosopher to the Hebrides ; his nails were very neatly pared, and his beard fresh shaved with a razor fabricated by the ingenious Mr. Savigny. P. P. Pray, Doctor, what is your opinion of Mr. Boswell's literary powers ? Johnson. Sir, my opinion is, that whenever Bozzy expires, he will create no vacuum in the region of literature — he seems strongly affected by the cacoethes scribendi ; wishes to be thought a vara avis ; and in truth so he is — your knowledge in ornithology, Sir, will easily dis- cover to what species of bird I allude. \_Here the Doctor shook his head and laughed.~\ P. P. What think you, Sir, of his account of Corsica ? — of his character of Paoli ? Johnson. Sir, he hath made a mountain of a wart. But Paoli has virtues. The account is a farrago of disgusting egotism and pompous inanity. P. P. I have heard it whispered, Doctor, that, should you die before him, Mr. B. means to write your life. Johnson. Sir, he cannot mean me so irreparable an injury. — Which of us shall die first, is only known to the Great Disposer of events ; but were I sure that James Boswell would write my life, I do not know whether I would not anticipate the measure by taking his. {Here he made three or four strides across the room, and returned to his chair with violent emotion.'] P. P. I am afraid that he means to do you the favour. Johnson. He dares not — he would make a scarecrow of me. I give him liberty to fire his blunderbuss in his own face, but not to murder me. Sir, I heed not his avroq ttya, — Boswell write my life ! why the fellow possesses not abilities for writing the life of an ephemeron. I I 2 484 JOHNSONIANA. No. V. — BOZZY AND PIOZZI ; OR THE BRITISH BIOGRAPHERS. A FAIR OF TOWN ECLOGUES. By Peter Pindar, Esq. ■Arcades ambo, — — _„ „...„„, Et cantare pares, et respondere, parati f Virgil, THE ARGUMENT. [Mr. Boswell and Madame Piozzi, the hero and heroine of our Eclogues, are supposed to have in contemplation the Life of Johnson ; and, to prove their biographical abilities, appeal to Sir John Hawkins for his decision on their respective merits, by quotations from their printed anecdotes of the Doctor. Sir John hears them with uncommon patience, and determines very properly on the pretensions of the contending parties.] Part I. When Johnson sought (as Shakspeare says) that bourn, From whence, alas ! no travellers return ; In humbler English, when the Doctor died, Apollo whimpered, and the Muses cried ; Parnassus moped for days, in business slack, And, like a hearse, the hill was hung with black ; Minerva, sighing for her favourite son, Pronounced, with lengthened face, the world undone ; Her owl too, hooted in so loud a style, That people might have heard the bird a mile ; Jove wiped his eyes so red, and told his wife He ne'er made Johnson's equal in his life ; And that 'twould be long time first, if ever, His art could form a fellow half so clever ;\ Venus, of all the little Doves the dam, With all the Graces, sobbed for brother Sam : Such were the heavenly howlings for his death, As if Dame Nature had resigned her breath. Nor less sonorous was the grief, I ween, Amidst the natives of our earthly scene : From beggars to the great who hold the helm, One Johnso-mania raged through all the realm. Who (cried the world) can match his prose or rhyme t O'er wits of modern days he towers sublime. An oak, wide spreading o'er the shrubs below, That round his roots, with puny foliage, blow; A pyramid, amidst some barren waste, That frowns o'er huts, the sport of every blast :• JEUX d'eSPRIT PETER PINDAR. 485 A mighty Atlas, whose aspiring head O'er distant regions casts an awful shade. By kings and vagabonds his tales are told, And every sentence glows, a grain of gold ! Blest who his philosophic phiz can take, Catch even his weaknesses — his noddle's shake, The lengthened lip of scorn, the forehead's scowl, The lowering eye's contempt, and bear-like growl. In vain the critics vent their toothless rage ; Mere sprats, that venture war with whales to wage. Unmoved he stands, and feels their force no more Than some huge rock amidst the watery roar, That calmly bears the tumults of the deep, And howling tempests, that as well might sleep. Strong, 'midst the Rambler's cronies, was the ragi v To fill, with Sam's bon mots and tales, the page ; Mere flies, that buzzed around his setting ray, And bore a splendour on their wings away. Thus round his orb the pigmy planets run, And catch their little lustre from the sun. At length rushed forth two candidates for fame, A Scotsman one, and one a London dame : That, by th' emphatic Johnson, christened Bozzy ; This, by the bishop's licence, Dame Piozzi ; "Whose widow'd name, by topers loved, was Thrale, Bright in the annals of election ale. Each seized, with ardour wild, the grey goose quill : Each set to work the intellectual mill. Forth rushed to light their books — but who should say Which bore the palm of anecdote away ? This to decide the rival wits agreed, Before Sir John their tales and jokes to read, And let the knight's opinion in the strife Declare the properest pen to write Sam's life. Sir John, renowned for musical palavers — The prince, the king, the emperor of quavers ! Sharp in solfeggi as the sharpest needle, Great in the noble art of tweedle-tweedle ; Whose volume, though it here and there offends, Boasts German merit — makes by bulk amends. Like schoolboys, lo ! before a two-armed chair, That held the knight wise judging, stood the pair ; Or like two ponies on the sporting ground, Prepared to gallop when the drum should sound ; The couple ranged — for victory both as keen As for a tottering bishopric a dean, Or patriot Burke for giving glorious bastings To that intolerable fellow Hastings. ii 3 486 JOHNSONIANA. Thus with their songs contended Virgil's swains, And made the valleys vocal with their strains, Before some grey-heard swain, whose judgment ripe Gave goats for prizes to the prettiest pipe. " Alternately, in anecdotes, go on ; But first begin you, madam," cried Sir John. The thankful dame, low curt'sied to the chair, And thus, for victory panting, read the Fair : MADAME PIOZZI. (*) Sam Johnson was of Michael Johnson born, Whose shop of books did Lichfield town adorn : Wrong-headed, stubborn as a haltered ram ; In short, the model of our Hero Sam ; Inclined to madness, too — for when his shop Fell down, for want of cash to buy a prop, For fear the thieves should steal the vanished store, He duly went each night and locked the door. (bozzy. 2 ) Whilst Johnson was in Edinburgh, my wife, To please his palate, studied for her life ; With every rarity she filled her house, And gave the Doctor, for his dinner, grouse. MADAME PIOZZI. ( 3 ) Dear Doctor Johnson was in size an ox, And from his uncle Andrew learned to box ; A man to wrestlers and to bruisers dear, Who kept the ring in Smithfield a whole year. bozzy. ( 4 ) At supper, rose a dialogue on witches, When Crosbie said there could not be such bitches ; And that 'twas blasphemy to think such hags Could stir up storms, and, on their broomstick nags, Gallop along the air with wondrous pace, And boldly fly in God Almighty's face. (1) [ " Michael Johnson, the father of Samuel, was a bookseller of Lichfield ; a very pious and worthy man, but wrong-headed, positive, and afflicted with melancholy. When his shop had fallen l;alf down, for want of money to repair it, he locked the door every night, though any body might walk in at the back part." — Anecdotes.'] (2) [ " My wife took care that our great guest should not be deficient. We gave him for dinner our Scotch muir-fowl, or grouse.] (3) [ " Mr. Johnson was conversant in boxing, which science he had learned from his uncle Andrew, who kept the ring in Smithfield a whole year."] (4) ["At supper witchcraft was introduced. Mr. Crosbie said, bethought it blasphemy to suppose evil spirits counteracting the Deity, and raising storms to destroy his creatures : Johnson answered, your arguments will not overturn the belief of witchcraft." ] JEUX d'eSPRIT PETER PINDAR. 487 But Johnson answered him, " There might he witches — Nought proved the non-existence of the bitches." MADAME PIOZZI. (*) When Thrale, as nimble as a boy at school, Jumped, though fatigued with hunting, o'er a stool ; The Doctor, proud the same grand feat to do, His powers exerted, and jumped over too. And though he might a broken back bewail, He scorned to be eclipsed by Mr. Thrale. At Ulinish, our friend, to pass the time, Regaled us with his knowledges sublime : Showed that all sorts of learning filled his nob ; And that in butchery he could bear a bob He sagely told us of the different feat Employed to kill the animals we eat. " An ox," says he, " in country and in town, Is by the butchers constantly knocked down ; As for that lesser animal, a calf, The knock is really not so strong by half, The beast is only stunned ; but as for goats, And sheep, and lambs — the butchers cut their throats. Those fellows only want to keep them quiet, Not choosing that the brutes should breed a riot." ( 2 ) MADAME PIOZZI. ( 3 ) When Johnson was a child and swallowed pap, 'Twas in his mother's old maid Catharine's lap : There, whilst he sat, he took in wondrous learning ; For much his bowels were for knowledge yearning ; There heard the story which we Britons brag on, The story of St. George and eke the Dragon. bozzy. ( 4 ) When Foote his leg by some misfortune broke, Says I to Johnson, all by way of joke, (1) [ " Because he saw Mr. Thrale one day leap over a stool, to show that he was not tired after a chace of fifty miles or more, he jumped over it too."] (2) ["His variety of information is surprising. He showed that lie knew something of hutchery. 'Different animals,' said he, 'are killed differently. An ox is knocked down, and a calf stunned ; hut a sheep has its throat cut. The butchers have no view to the ease of the animal, but only to make them quiet, for their own safety and convenience.' "] (3) [ " Dr. Johnson first learned to read of his mother and her old maid Catharine, in whose lap he well remembered sitting while she explained to him the story of St. George and the Dragon."] (4) [ " When Foote broke his leg, I observed, that it would make him fitter for taking off George Faulkner as Peter Paragraph, poor George having a wooden leg. Dr. Johnson said, *■ George will rejoice at the depeditation of i i 4 488 JOHNSONIANA. " Sam, Sir, in Paragraph, will soon be clever, And take off Peter better now than ever." On which says Johnson, without hesitation, " George will rejoice at Foote's depeditation." On which, says I — a penetrating elf — " Doctor, I'm sure you coined that word yourself." On which he laughed, and said, I had divined it ; For bona fide he had really coined it. iC And yet of all the words I've coined," says he, " My Dictionary, Sir, contains but three." MADAME PIOZZI. The Doctor said, in literary matters, A Frenchman goes not deep — he only smatters ; Then asked, what could be hoped for from the dogs — ■ Fellows that lived eternally on frogs. (*) bozzy. ( 2 ) In grave procession to St. Leonard's College, Well stuffed with every sort of useful knowledge, We stately walked, as soon as supper ended : The landlord and the waiter both attended : The landlord, skilled a piece of grease to handle, Before us marched, and held a tallow candle : A lantern (some famed Scotsman its creator), With equal grace was carried by the waiter : Next morning, from our beds, we took a leap ; And found ourselves much better for our sleep. MADAME PIOZZI. ( 3 ) In Lincolnshire, a lady showed our friend A grotto, that she wished him to commend : Quoth she, ;< How cool, in summer, this abode !" " Yes, Madam," answered Johnson, ei for a toad," bozzy. ( 4 ) Between old Scalpa's rugged isle and Rasay's, The wind was vastly boisterous in our faces : Foote !' and when I challenged that word, laughed, and owned he had made it ; and added that he had not made above three or four in his Dictionary."] (1) ["What would you expect, dear Sir, said he, from fellows that eat frogs?"] (2) [" We had a dreary drive to St. Andrew's. We found a good supper at Glass's Inn, and Dr. Johnson revived agreeably. After supper, we made a pro- cession to St. Leonard's College, the landlord walking before us with a candle, and the waiter with a lantern. We rose next morning much refreshed."] (3) [" The Lincolnshire lady, who showed our friend a grotto she had been making, asked him, ' Would it not be a cool habitation in summer?" ' I think it would, Madam,' answered Johnson, 'for a toad.' "] (4) [" We sailed along the coast of Scalpa, a rugged island. The wind made . JEUX d'eSPRIT PETER PINDAR. 489 'Twas glorious Johnson's figure to set sight on — High in the boat, he looked a noble Triton ! But lo ! to damp our pleasure fate concurs ; For Joe, the blockhead, lost his master's spurs. This, for the Rambler's temper, was a rubber, Who wondered Joseph could be such a lubber. MADAME PIOZZI. (l) I asked him, if he knocked Tom Osborn down, As such a tale was current through the town — Says I, " Do tell me, Doctor, what befell." " Why, dearest lady, there is nought to tell : I pondered on the properest mode to treat him — The dog was impudent, and so I beat him ! bozzy. ( 2 ) Lo ! when we landed on the Isle of Mull, The megrims got into the Doctor's skull : With such bad humours he began to fill, I thought he would not go to Icolmkill. But lo ! those megrims (wonderful to utter !) Were banished all by tea and bread and butter ! MADAME PIOZZI. (3) The doctor had a cat, and christened Hodge, That at his house in Fleet Street used to lodge — This Hodge grew old, and sick, and used to wish That all his dinners were composed of fish. To please poor Hodge, the Doctor, all so kind, Went out, and bought him oysters to his mind. This every day he did — nor asked black Frank, Who deemed himself of much too high a rank, With vulgar fish-fags to be forced to chat, And purchase oysters for a mangy cat. the sea lash considerably upon us. Dr. Johnson sat high on the stern, like a magnificent Triton. In the confusion, the Doctor's spurs, of which Joseph had charge, were carried overboard and lost. He was angry, and observed that there was something wild in letting a pair of spurs be carried into the sea."] (1) ["I asked him if he had knocked down Osborne the bookseller, as such a story was current. ' Dearest iady,' said he, ' the dog was impertinent, and so I beat him,' " &c. ] (2) [" When we landed in Mull the Doctor was out of humour. I was afraid he would not go to Icolmkill ; but a dish of tea and some good bread and butter did him service, and his bad humour went off."] (3) [ " The Doctor had a cat, which he called Hodge, that kept always in his room at Fleet Street; and when the creature was grown sick and old, and could eat nothing but oysters, he always went out himself to buy Hodge's dinner, that Frank the black's delicacy might not be hurt at seeing himself employed for the convenience of a cat." 490 JOHNSONIANA, SIR JOHN. For God's sake stay each anecdotic scrap ; Let me draw breath, and take a trifling nap ; With one half hour's refreshing slumber blessed, And Heaven's assistance, I may hear the rest. Aside.~] — What have I done, inform me, gracious Lord, That thus my ears with nonsense should be bored ? Oh ! if I do not in the trial die, The devil and all his brimstone I defy, No punishment in other worlds I fear ; My crimes will all be expiated here. The knight, thus finishing his speech so fair, Sleep pulled him gently backwards in his chair ; Oped wide the mouth that oft on jailbirds swore, Then raised his nasal organ to a roar, That actually surpassed, in tone and grace, The grumbled ditties of his favourite bass. Part II. Now from his sleep the knight, affrighted, sprung, While on his ear the words of Johnson rung ; For, lo ! in dreams, the surly Rambler rose, And, wildly staring, seemed a man of woes. " Wake, Hawkins," growled the Doctor, with a frown, if And knock that fellow and that woman down — Bid them with Johnson's life proceed no further — Enough already they have dealt in murther ! Say, to their tales that little truth belongs — If fame they mean me, bid them hold their tongues. " In vain at glory gudgeon Boswell snaps — His mind 's a paper-kite, composed of scraps ; Just o'er the tops of chimneys formed to fly, Not with a wing sublime to mount the sky Say to the dog, his head's a downright drum, Unequal to the history of Tom Thumb. " For that Piozzi's wife, Sir John, exhort her, To draw her immortality from porter ; Give up her anecdotical inditing, And study housewifery instead of writing. I know no business women have with learning ; I scorn, I hate, the mole eyed, half-discerning : Their wit but serves a husband's heart to rack, And make eternal horsewhips for his back. " Tell Peter Pindar, should you chance to meet him, I like his genius — should be glad to greet him. JEUX d'eSPRIT — PETER PINDAR. 491 Yet let him know, crowned heads are sacred things, And bid him reverence more the best of kings ; Still on his Pegasus continue jogging, And give that Boswell's back another flogging." Such was the dream that waked the sleepy knight, And oped again his eyes upon the light — Who, mindless of old Johnson and his frown, And stern commands to knock the couple down, Resolved to keep the peace ; and, in a tone Not much unlike a mastiff o'er a bone, He grumbled that, enabled by the nap, He now could meet more biographic scrap. Then nodding with a magistratic air, To further anecdote he called the fair. MADAME PIOZZI. (!) Dear Doctor Johnson loved a leg of pork, And hearty on it would his grinders work : He liked to eat it so much over-done, That one might shake the flesh from off the bone. A veal pie too, with sugar crammed and plums, Was wondrous grateful to the Doctor's gums. bozzy. (2) One Thursday morn did Doctor Johnson wake, And call out, " Lanky ! Lanky !" by mistake ; But recollecting, " Bozzy ! Bozzy I" cried — For in contractions Johnson took a pride ! MADAME PIOZZI. Whene'er our friend would read in bed by night, Poor Mr.Thrale and I were in a fright; For blinking on his book, too near the flame, Lo ! to the fore-top of his wig it came ! Burnt all the hairs away, both great and small, Down to the very net-work, named the caul. (3) bozzy. ( 4 ) At Corrachatachin's, in hoggism sunk, I got with punch, alas ! confounded drunk. (1) [" A leg of pork, boiled till it dropped from the bone, or a veal pie with plums and sugar, were his favourite dainties. "J (2) [ " On Thursday morning, when Dr. Johnson awaked, he called ' Lanky ' ! having, I suppose, been thinking of Langton ; but corrected himself, and cried, ' Bozzy ! ' He has a way of contracting the names of his friends."] (3) [ " He would read in bed by night. In general his wigs were very shabby, and the foreparts were burned away by the near approach of the candle which his short-sightedness rendered necessary." J (4) f " A fourth bowl of punch was made. It was near five when I got to bed. I awaked at noon with a severe headach. I was much vexed that I 492 JOHNSONIANA. Much was I vexed that I could not he quiet, But like a stupid blockhead breed a riot. I scarcely knew how 'twas I reeled to bed. Next morn I waked with dreadful pains of head : And terrors too, that of my peace did rob me — For much I feared the moralist would mob me. But as I lay along a heavy log, The Doctor, entering, called me drunken dog. Then up rose I, with apostolic air, And read in Dame M'Kinnon's book of prayer ; In hopes, for such a sin, to be forgiven — And make, if possible, my peace with Heaven. 'Twas strange, that in that volume of divinity, I oped the Twentieth Sunday after Trinity, And read these words : — Pray, be not drunk with wine; Since drunkenness doth make a man a swine." MADAME PIOZZI. ( l ) One day, with spirits low and sorrow filled, I told him I had got a cousin killed : " My dear/' quoth he, " for heaven's sake hold your canting Were all your cousins killed, they'd not be wanting : Though Death on each of them should set his mark — Though every one were spitted like a lark — Roasted, and given that dog there for a meal ; The loss of them the world would never feel. bozzy. ( 2 ) At Anoch, at M'Queen's we went to bed ; A coloured hankerchief wrapped Johnson's head : He said, " God bless us both — good night !" and then I, like a parish clerk, pronounced, Amen ! My good companion soon with sleep was seized — But I by vermin vile was sadly teazed : Methought a spider, with terrific claws, Was striding from the wainscot to my jaws : had been guilty of such a riot, and afraid of a reproof from Dr. Johnson. ' Sir,' said I, ' they kept me up J' He answered, ' No, you kept them up, you drunken dog.' Taking up Mrs. M'Kinnon's prayer-book, I opened it at the twentieth Sunday after Trinity, in the epistle for which I read, 'And be not drunk with wine, wherein there is excess."] (1) [ " When I one day lamented the loss of a first cousin killed, ' Prithee, my dear,' said he, ■' have done with canting : how would the world be worse for it, if all your relations were at once spitted like larks, and roasted for Presto's supper !"] (2) [ " Dr. Johnson slept with a coloured handkerchief tied round his head. He said, 'God bless us both, good night.' I pronounced Amen! He fell asleep immediately. I fancied myself bit by innumerable vermin, and that a spider was travelling towards my mouth. At last T fell into insensibility."] JEUX D'ESPRIT PETER PINDAR. 493 But slumber soon did every sense entrap ; And so I sunk into the sweetest nap. MADAME PIOZZI. (*) Travelling in Wales, at dinner-time we got on Where, at Lleweny, lives Sir Robert Cotton. At table, our great Moralist to please — Says I " Dear Doctor, aVt these charming peas ? Quoth he (to contradict and run his rig), " Madam, they possibly might please a pig." bozzy. ( 2 ) Of thatching well the Doctor knew the art, And with his thrashing wisdom made us start: Described the greatest secrets of the mint — And made folks fancy that he had been in't. Of hops and malt, 'tis wondrous what he knew T ; And well as any brewer he could brew. MADAME PIOZZI. (.3) In ghosts the Doctor strongly did believe, And pinn'd his faith on many a liar's sleeve : He said to Doctor Lawrence, (i Sure I am, I heard my poor dear mother call out, ' Sam /' BOZZY. (4) When young, ('twas rather silly, I allow,) Much pleased was I to imitate a cow. One time, at Drury-lane, with Doctor Blair, My imitations made the play-house stare I So very charming was I in my roar, That both the galleries clapped, and cried, " Encore !" Blest be the general plaudit and the laugh — I tried to be a jackass and a calf: (1) [" When we went into Wales, and spent some time at Sir Robert Cot- ton's at Lleweny, one day at dinner I meant to please Mr. Johnson particularly with a dish of very young peas. ' Are not they charming ? ' said I to him. ' Perhaps,' said he, * they would be so — to a pig. ' "] (2) [ " He talked of thrashing and thatching, and gave us an account of the whole process of tanning. His variety of information is surprising." ] (3) [ " He one day said to me, ' I can recollect telling Dr. Lawrence many years ago, that a long time after my poor mother's death, I heard her voice call Sam !' "] (4) [ " A great many years ago, when Dr. Blair and I were sitting together in the pit of Drury-lane playhouse, in a wild freak of youthful extravagance, I entertained the audience prodigiously by imitating the lowings of a cow. The universal cry of the galleries was, ' Encore the cow ! ' In the pride of my heart, I attempted imitations of some other animals, but with very inferior effect. My revered friend, anxious for my fame, with an air of the utmost gravity and earnestness, addressed me thus, < My dear sir, I would confine myself to the cow.' "] 494 JOHNSONIANA. But who, alas ! in all things can be great ? In short, I met a terrible defeat : So vile I brayed and bellowed, I was hissed — Yet all who knew me wondered that I missed. Blair whispered me, " You've lost your credit now ; Stick, Boswell, for the future, to your cow." MADAME PIOZZI. ( ] ) On Mr. Thrale's old Hunter Johnson rode — Who, with prodigious pride, the beast bestrode ; And as on Brighton Downs he dashed away, Much was he pleased to hear a sportsman say, That, at a chase, he was as tight a hand, As e'er an ill-bred lubber in the land. bozzy. ( 2 ) We sailed about Loch Lomond in a boat, And made a landing on each isle of 'note ; But why the beauties of a scence describe, So oft narrated by the travelling tribe ! One morning, Johnson on the Isle of Mull, Was of his politics excessive full : Quoth he, " That Pulteney was a rogue, 'tis plain — Besides, the fellow was a Whig in grain." Then to his principles he gave a banging, And swore no Whig was ever worth a hanging. " 'Tis wonderful," says he, " and makes one stare, To think the livery chose John Wilkes lord mayor : A dog, of whom the world could nurse no hopes — Prompt to debauch their girls, and rob their shops." MADAME PIOZZI. Sir, I believe that anecdote a lie ; But grant that Johnson said it — by the by, As Wilkes unhappily your friendship shared, The dirty anecdote might well be spared. (1) [" He rode on Mr. Thrale's old hunter with a good firmness. He was proud to be amongst the sportsmen ; and I think no praise ever went so close to his heart, as when Mr. Hamilton called out one day, ' Why, Johnson rides as well as the most illiterate fellow in England.' "] (2) [ " We sailed about upon Loch Lomond, and landed on some of the islands which are interspersed. Butit is unnecessary to describe," &c. - — " One morning at Mull, the subject of politics was introduced. Johnson. 'Pulteney was as paltry a fellow as could be : he was a Whig who pretended to be honest ; and you know it is ridiculous for a Whig to pretend to be honest.' He said, ' It is wonderful to think that all the force of government was required to prevent Wilkes from being chosen Lord Mayor of London, though the livery-men knew he would rob their shops and debauch their daughters.' "] nfUte,, M ^ X. OT ; EDO i JEUX d'eSPRIT PETER PINDAR. 49*5 BOZZY. Madam, I stick to truth as much as you, And, damme, if the story be not true. "What you have said of Johnson and the larks, As much the Rambler for a savage marks. 'Twas scandalous, even Candour must allow, To give the history of the horse and cow. MADAME PIOZZI. Sam Johnson's thrashing knowledge and his thatching, May be your own inimitable hatching — Pray, of his wisdom can't you tell more news ? Could not he make a shirt, and cobble shoes ? Knit stockings, or ingenious take up stitches — Draw teeth, dress wigs, or make a pair of breeches ? You prate too of his knowledge of the mint, As if the Rambler really had been in't — Who knows but you will tell us (truth forsaking) That each bad shilling is of Johnson's making : His each vile sixpence that the world hath cheated — And his the art that every guinea sweated ? About his brewing knowledge you will prate too., Who scarcely knew a hop from a potatoe. And though of beer he joyed in hearty swigs, I'd pit against his taste my husband's pigs. How could your folly tell, so void of truth, That miserable story of the youth, Who, in your book, of Dr. Johnson begs Most seriously to know if cats laid eggs ? MADAME PIOZZI. Who told of Mrs. Montague the lie — So palpable a falsehood ? — Bozzy, fie ! BOZZY. Who, maddening with an anecdotic itch, Declared that Johnson called his mother bitch? MADAME PIOZZI. Who from McDonald's rage to save his snout, Cut twenty lines of defamation out ? BOZZY. Who would have said a word about Sam's wig; Or told the story of the peas and pig ? Who would have told a tale so very flat, Of Frank the Black, and Hodge the mangy cat ? 496 JOHNSONIANA, MADAME PIOZZI. Ecod ! you're grown at once confounded tender — Of Doctor Johnson's fame a fierce defender. I'm sure you've mention'd many a pretty story, Not much redounding to the Doctor's glory. Now for a saint, upon us you would palm him — First murder the poor man, and then enbalm him ! SIR JOHN. For shame ! for shame ! for heaven's sake, pray be quiet Not Billingsgate exhibits such a riot. Behold ! for scandal you have made a feast, And turned your idol, Johnson, to a beast : 'Tis plain the tales of ghosts are arrant lies, Or instantaneously would Johnson's rise ; Make you both eat your paragraphs so evil, And for your treatment to him play the devil. Zounds ! madam, mind the duties of a wife, And dream no more of Doctor Johnson's life ; A happy knowledge in a pie or pudding Will more delight your friends than all your studying ; One cut from venison to the heart can speak Stronger than ten quotations from the Greek ; One fat sirloin possesses more sublime Than all the airy castles built by rhyme. One nipperkin of stingo with a toast Beats all the streams the Muses' fount can boast. Enough those anecdotes your powers have shown, Sam's life, dear ma'am, will only damn your own. For thee, James Bosvvell, may the hand of fate Arrest thy goose-quill, and confine thy prate ; Thy egotism the world disgusted hears — Then load with vanities no more our ears, Like some known puppy yelping all night long, That tires the very echoes with his tongue. Yet, should it lie beyond the powers of fate To stop thy pen, and still thy darling prate ; O be in solitude to live thy luck — A chattering magpie on the Isle of Muck. Thus spoke the Judge ; then leaping from the chair, He left, in consternation lost, the pair ; Black Frank he sought on anecdote to cram, And vomit first a life of surly Sam. Shocked at the little manners of the knight, The rivals marvelling marked his sudden flight, Then to their pens and paper rushed the twain To kill the mangled Rambler o'er again. JEUX d'eSPRIT SAYERS. 497 No. VI. — INSCRIPTION ON A CARICATURE OF JOHN- SON AND MADAME PIOZZI, BY SAYERS. (*) Madam (my debt to nature paid), I thought the grave with hallow'd shade Would now protect my name : Yet there in vain I seek repose, My friends each little fault disclose, And murder Johnson's fame. First, Boswell, with officious care, Show'd me as men would show a bear, And call'd himself my friend ; Sir John with nonsense strew 'd my hearse, And Courtenay pester'd me with verse : You torture without end. When Streatham spread its plenteous board, I open'd Learning's valued hoard, And as I feasted prosed. Good things I said, good things I eat, I gave you knowledge for your meat, And thought th' account was closed. If obligations still I owed, You sold each item to the crowd, I sufFer'd by the tale : For God's sake, Madam, let me rest, Nor longer vex your quondam guest — I'll pay you for your ale. (1) [From the European Magazine.] K K 498 Part XXXIV. BOSWELL, No. I. — BRIEF MEMOIR OF BOSWELL, BY EDMOND M ALONE, ESQ.(i) James Boswell, Esq., eldest son of Alexander Boswell, Lord Auchinleck, one of the judges in the supreme courts of session and justiciary in Scotland, was born at Edin- burgh, October 29. 1740, and received his first rudiments of education in that city. He afterwards studied Civil Law in the universities of Edinburgh and Glasgow. During his residence in these cities, he acquired, by the society of the English gentlemen who were students in the English colleges, that remarkable predilection for their manners, which neither the force of education, nor the dulcedo of his natale solum, could ever eradicate. But his most intimate acquaintance at this period was the Rev. Mr. Temple, a worthy, learned, and pious divine, whose well- written character of Gray was inserted in Johnson's Life of that poet. Mr. Boswell imbibed early the ambi- tion of distinguishing himself by his literary talents, and had the good fortune to obtain the patronage of the late Lord Somerville. This nobleman treated him with the most flattering kindness ; and Mr. Boswell ever remem- bered with gratitude the friendship he so long enjoyed with this worthy peer. Having always entertained an exalted idea of the felicity of London, in the year I76O (1) [From Nichols's Literary Anecdotes of the Eighteenth Century, vol. ii. p. 400.] I : ■■ S ? ^ r /jy BOSWELL. 499 he visited that capital ; in the manners and amusements of which he found so much that was congenial to his own taste and feelings, that it became ever after his favourite residence, whither he always returned from his estate in Scotland, and from his various rambles in various parts of Europe, with increasing eagerness and delight ; and we find him, nearly twenty years afterwards, condemning Scotland as too narrow a sphere, and wishing to make his chief residence in London, which he calls the great scene of ambition, instruction, and, comparatively, making his heaven upon earth. He was, doubtless, confirmed in this attachment to the metropolis by the strong predilection entertained towards it by his friend Dr. Johnson, whose sentiments on this subject Mr. Boswell details in various parts of his Life of that great man ; and which are corro- borated by every one, in pursuit of literary and intellectual attainments, who has enjoyed but a taste of the rich feast which that city spreads before him. The politeness, affability, and insinuating urbanity of manners, which distinguished Mr. Boswell, introduced him into the company of many eminent and learned men, whose acquaintance and friendship he cultivated with the greatest assiduity. In truth, the esteem and approbation of learned men seems to have been one chief object of his literary ambition ; and we find him so successful in pur- suing his end, that he enumerated some of the greatest men in Scotland among his friends even before he left it for the first time. Notwithstanding Mr. Boswell by his education was intended for the bar, yet he was himself earnestly bent at this period upon obtaining a commission in the Guards, and solicited Lord Auchinleck's acqui- escence ; but returned, however, byhis desire, into Scotland, where he received a regular course of instruction in the Law, and passed his trials as a civilian at Edinburgh. Still, however, ambitious of displaying himself as one of " the manly hearts who guard the fair," he revisited Lon- don a second time in I762 ; and various occurrences de- laying the purchase of a commission, he was at length persuaded by Lord Auchinleck to relinquish his pursuit, and become an advocate at the Scotch bar. In com- K K 2 500 JOHNSONIANA. pliance, therefore, with his father's wishes, he consented to go to Utrecht the ensuing winter, to hear the lectures of an excellent civilian in that university ; after which he had permission to make his grand tour of Europe. In 1762 Mr Bos well puhlished the little poem, entitled " The Club at Newmarket, a Tale ;" and the next year may be considered the most important epocha in his life, as he had the singular felicity to be introduced to Dr. Johnson. This event, so auspicious for Mr. Boswell, and so fortunate for the literary world, happened on May 16. 1763. Having afterwards continued one winter at Utrecht, during which time he visited several parts of the Nether- lands, he commenced his projected travels. Passing from Utrecht into Germany, he pursued his route through Switzerland to Geneva ; whence he crossed the Alps into Italy : having visited on his journey Voltaire at Ferney, and Rousseau in the wilds of Neufchatel. Mr. Boswell continued some time in Italy, where he met and associated with Lord Mountstuart, to whom he afterwards dedicated his Theses Juridicce. Having visited the most remarkable cities in Italy, Mr. Boswell sailed to Corsica, travelled over every part of that island, and obtained the friendship of the illustrious Pas- qual dje Paoli, in whose palace he resided during his stay at Corsica. He afterwards went to Paris, whence he return- ed to Scotland in I766, and soon after became an advo- cate at the Scotch bar. The celebrated Douglas cause was at that time a subject of general discussion. Mr. Boswell published the " Essence of the Douglas Cause ;" a pamphlet which contributed to procure Mr. Douglas the popularity which he at that time possessed. In 1768, Mr. Boswell obliged the world by his " Ac- count of Corsica, with Memoirs of General Paoli." Of this printed performance Dr. Johuson thus expresses him- self: " Your Journal is curious and delightful. I know not whether I could name any narrative by which curiosity is better excited or better gratified.'* This book was received with extraordinary approbation, and has been translated into the German, Dutch, Italian, and French languages. In the following winter, the theatre-royal at BOSWELL. 501 Edinburgh, hitherto restrained by party spirit, was opened. On this occasion Mr. Boswell was solicited by David Ross, Esq. to write a prologue. The effect of this prologue upon the audience was highly flattering to the author, and bene- ficial to the manager, as it secured to the latter, by the annihilation of the opposition which had been till that time too successfully exerted against him, the uninterrupted possession of his patent, which he enjoyed till his death, which happened in September, 1790. Mr. Boswell at- tended his funeral as chief mourner, and paid the last ho- nours to a man with whom he had spent many a pleasant hour. — In 17^9, was celebrated at Stratford-on-Avon, the Jubilee in honour of Shakspeare. Mr. Boswell, an enthusiastic admirer of the writings of our immortal bard, and ever ready to partake of " the feast of reason and the flow of soul," repaired thither, and appeared at the mas- querade as an armed Corsican chief ; a character he was eminently qualified to support. This year Mr. Boswell was married to Miss Margaret Montgomery, a lady who, to the advantages of a polite education, united admirable good sense and a brilliant understanding. She was daughter of David Montgomery, Esq., related to the illustrious family of Eglintoune, and representative of the ancient peerage of Lyle. The death of this amiable woman is recorded in the Gentleman's Magazine for June, 1790 ; and Mr. Boswell honoured her memory with an affectionate tribute. She left him two sons and three daughters ; who, to use Mr. BoswelPs own words, " if they inherit her good qualities, will have no reason to complain of their lot." Dos magna parent urn virtus. — In 1782, Lord Auchinleck died. — In 1783, Mr. Boswell published his celebrated "Letter to the People of Scotland ; " which is thus praised by John- son in a letter to the author : " I am very much of your opinion * * # # ; your paper contains very considerable knowledge of history and the constitution, very properly produced and applied." Mr. Pitt, to whom Mr. Boswell communicated the pamphlet, honoured it with his approba- tion. This first Letter was followed by a second, in which Mr. Boswell displayed his usual energy and political abili- K K 3 502 JOHNSONIANA. ties. In 1785, Mr. Bos well published " A Journal of a Tour to the Hebrides" with Dr. Johnson ; which met a similar success to his entertaining account of Corsica. This year Mr. Boswell removed to London, and was soon after called to the English bar. But Mr. Boswell's professional business was interrupted by preparing his most celebrated work, " The Life of Samuel Johnson, LL.D." This was published in 1791, and was received by the world with most extraordinary avidity. It is a faithful history of Johnson's life, and ex- hibits a most interesting picture of the character of that illustrious moralist, delineated with a masterly hand. The preparation of a second edition of this work was almost the last literary performance of Mr. Boswell ; though he was at the same time preparing a general answer to a letter from Dr. Samuel Parr, in Gent. Mag. vol. lxv. p. 179. ; in which he proposed briefly to notice the attacks of his more puny antagonists. He had also a design, which was in some forwardness, of publishing a quarto volume, to be embellished with fine plates, on the subject of the controversy occasioned by the Beggar's Opera ; and it is to be regretted, that the public were not gratified with a perusal of what so good a judge of human nature would say on so curious a subject. With this particular view he had paid frequent visits to the then truly humane "Go- vernor of Newgate," as he ordinarily styled Mr. Kirby. His death, unexpected by his friends, was a subject of universal regret ; and his remains were carried to Auchin- leck ; and the following inscription is engraved on his coffin-plate : — James Boswell, Esq., died 19th May, 1795, aged 55 years. BOSWELL. 503 No. II. — EXTRACTS FROM BOSWELL'S LETTERS TO MR. MALONE. [Mr. BosweWs letters to Mr. Malone, written while the first edition of his Life of Johnson was passing through the press, afford so curious a view of his situation and state of mind at that period, that the Editor has gladly availed himself of Mr. Upcotfs permission to make some extracts from the MSS. in that gentleman } s col- lection.^ " Dec. 4. 1790. Let me begin with myself. On the day after your departure, that most friendly fellow Cour- tenay (begging the pardon of an M.P. for so free an epi- thet) called on me, and took my word and honour that, till the 1st of March, my allowance of wine per diem should not exceed four good glasses at dinner, and a pint after it ; and this I have kept, though I have dined with Jack Wilkes ; at the London Tavern, after the launch of an Indiaman ; with dear Edwards ; Dilly ; at home with Courtenay ; Dr. Barrow ; at the mess of the Coldstream ; at the Club ; at Warren Hastings's ; at Hawkins the Cor- nish member's ; and at home with a colonel of the guards, &c. This regulation I assure you is of essential advantage in many respects. The Magnum Opus advances. I have revised p. 216. The additions which I have received are a Spanish quotation from Mr. Cambridge ; an account of Johnson at Warley Camp from Mr. Langton ; and Johnson's letters to Mr. Hastings — three in all — one of them long and admirable ; but what sets the diamonds in pure gold of Ophir is a letter from Mr. Hastings to me, illustrating them and their writer. I had this day the honour of a long visit from the late Governor-general of K K 4 504 JOHNSONIANA. India. There is to be no more impeachment. But you will see his character nobly vindicated. Depend upon this. O " And now for my friend. The appearance of Ma- lone's Shakspeare on the 29th November was not attended with any external noise ; but I suppose no publication seized more speedily and surely on the attention of those for whose critical taste it was chiefly intended. At the Club on Tuesday, where I met Sir Joshua, Dr. Warren, Lord Ossory, Lord Palmerston, Windham, and Burke in the chair, — Burke was so full of his anti-French revolution rage, and poured it out so copiously, that we had almost nothing else. He, however, found time to praise the clearness and accuracy of your dramatic history ; and Windham found fault with you for not taking the profits of so laborious a work. Sir Joshua is pleased, though he would gladly have seen more disquisition — you under- stand me ! " Dec. 7- I dined last Saturday at Sir Joshua's with Mr. Burke, his lady, son, and niece, Lord Palmerston, Windham, Dr. Lawrence, Dr. Blagden, Dr. Burney, Sir Abraham Hume, Sir William Scott, I sat next to young Burke at dinner, who said to me, that you had paid his father a very fine compliment. I mentioned Johnson, to sound if there was any objection. He made none. In the evening Burke told me he had read your Henry VI., with all its accompaniments, and it was ' exceedingly well done.' He left us for some time ; I suppose on some of his cursed politics ; but he returned — 1 at him again, and heard from his lips what, believe me, I delighted to hear, and took care to write down soon after : * I have read his History of the Stage, which is a very capital piece of criticism and anti-agrarianism. I shall now read all Shakspeare through, in a very different manner from what I have yet done, when I have got such a commentator.' Will not this do for you, my friend ? Burke was admirable (1) [The impeachment and trial of Warren Hastings, which lasted nine years, terminated in April, 1795, in his entire acquittal. From this period he passed the remainder of his life in retirement, although honoured with a seat in the Privy Council ; and died August 22. 1818, in his seventy, fifth year.] BOSWELL. 505 company all that day. He never once, I think, mentioned the French revolution, and was easy with me, as in days of old." " Dec. 16. I was sadly mortified at the Cluh on Tues- day, where I was in the chair, and on opening the box found three balls against General Burgoyne. Present, besides mot, Lord Ossory, Sir Joshua Reynolds, Sir Joseph Banks, Dr. Fordyce, Dr. Burney, young Burke, Courtenay, Steevens. One of the balls, I do believe, was put into the no side by Fordyce by mistake. You may guess who put in the other two. The Bishop of Carlisle and Dr. Blagden are put up. I doubt if the latter will be admitted, till Burgoyne gets in first. My work has met with a delay for a little while — not a whole day, how- ever — by an unaccountable neglect in not having paper enough in readiness. I have now before me p. 256. My utmost wish is to come forth on Shrove Tuesday (8th March). c Wits are game cocks,' &c. Langton is in town, and dines with me to-morrow quietly, and re- vises his Collectanea" " Jan. 18. 1791. I have been so disturbed by sad money-matters, that my mind has been quite fretful : 500/. which I borrowed and lent to a first cousin, an unlucky captain of an Indiaman, were due on the 15th to a mer- chant in the city. I could not possibly raise that sum, and was apprehensive of being hardly used. He, however, indulged me with an allowance to make partial payments ; 150/. in two months, 150/. in eight months, and the re- mainder, with the interests, in eighteen months. How I am to manage I am at a loss, and I know you cannot help me. So this, upon my honour, is no hint. I am really tempted to accept of the 1000/. for my Life of Johnson. Yet it would go to my heart to sell it at a price which I think much too low. Let me struggle and hope. I cannot be out on Shrove Tuesday, as I nattered myself. P. 376. of Vol. II. is ordered for press, and I expect another proof to-night. But I have yet near 200 pages of copy, besides letters, and the death, which is not yet written. My 506 JOHNSONIANA. second volume will, I see, be forty or fifty pages more than my first. Your absence is a woful want in all respects. You will, I dare say, perceive a difference in the part which is revised only by myself, and in which many inser- tions will appear. My spirits are at present bad : but I will mention all I can recollect." "Jan. 29. 1791. You will find this a most desponding and disagreeable letter, for which 1 ask your pardon. But your vigour of mind and warmth of heart make your friendship of such consequence, that it is drawn upon like a bank. I have, for some weeks, had the most woful re- turn of melancholy, insomuch that I have not only had no relish of any thing, but a continual uneasiness, and all the prospect before me for the rest of life has seemed gloomy and hopeless. The state of my affairs is exceed- ingly embarrassed. I mentioned to you that the 500/. which I borrowed several years ago, and lent to a first cousin, an unfortunate India captain, must now be paid ; 150/. on the 18th of March, 150/. on the 18th of October, and 257/. 15s. 6d. on the 18th of July, 1792. This debt presses upon my mind, and it is uncertain if I shall ever get a shilling of it again. The clear money on which I can reckon out of my estate is scarcely 900/. a year. What can I do ? My grave brother urges me to quit London, and live at my seat in the country ; where he thinks that I might be able to save so as gradually to relieve myself. But, alas ! I should be absolutely miserable. In the meantime, such are my projects and sanguine expectations, that you know I purchased an estate which was given long ago to a younger son of our family, and came to be sold last autumn, and paid for it 25 00/. — 1500/. of which I borrow upon itself by a mort- gage. But the remaining 1000/. I cannot conceive a possibility of raising, but by the mode of annuity ; which is, I believe, a very heavy disadvantage. I own it was imprudent in me to make a clear purchase at a time when I was sadly straitened ; but if I had missed the oppor- tunity, it never again would have occurred, and I should have been vexed to see an ancient appanage, a piece of, as BOSWELL. 507 it were, the flesh and blood of the family, in the hands of a stranger. And now that I have made the purchase, I should feel myself quite despicable should I give it up. " In this situation, then, my dear Sir, would it not be wise in me to accept of 1000 guineas for my Life of Johnson, supposing" the person who made the offer should now stand to it, which I fear may not be the case ; for two volumes may be considered as a disadvantageous cir- cumstance ? Could I indeed raise 1000/. upon the credit of the work, I should incline to game, as Sir Joshua says ; because it may produce double the money, though Steevens kindly tells me that I have over-printed, and that the curiosity about Johnson is now only in our own circle. Pray decide for me ', and if, as I suppose, you are for my taking the offer, inform me with whom I am to treat. In my present state of spirits, I am all timidity. Your absence has been a severe stroke to me. I am at present quite at a loss what to do. Last week they gave me six sheets. I have now before me in proof 'p. 456. : yet I have above 100 pages of my copy remaining, besides his death, which is yet to be written, and many insertions, were there room, as also seven-and-thirty letters, exclusive of twenty to Dr. Brocklesby, most of which will furnish only extracts. I am advised to extract several of those to others, and leave out some ; for my first volume makes only 516 pages, and to have 600 in the second will seem awkward, besides increasing the expense considerably. The counsellor, indeed, has devised an ingenious way to thicken the first volume, by prefixing the index. I have now desired to have but one compositor. Indeed, I go sluggishly and comfortlessly about my work. As I pass your door I cast many a longing look. " I am to cancel a leaf of the first volume, having found that though Sir Joshua certainly assured me he had no objection to my mentioning that Johnson wrote a dedica- tion for him, he now thinks otherwise. In that leaf occurs the mention of Johnson having written to Dr. Leland, thanking the University of Dublin for their diploma. What shall I say as to it ? I have also room to state shortly the anecdote of the college cook, which I beg you 508 JOHNSONIANA. may get for me. I shall be very anxious till I hear from you. " Having- harassed you with so much about myself, I have left no room for any thing else. We had a numerous club on Tuesday : Fox in the chair, quoting Homer and Fielding, &c. to the astonishment of Jo. Warton ; who, with Langton and Seward, ate a plain bit with me, in my new house, last Saturday. Sir Joshua has put up Dr. Laurence, who will be blackballed as sure as he exists. ( ] ) " We dined on Wednesday at Sir Joshua's ; thirteen without Miss P. Himself, Blagden, Batt, [Lawrence,]] Erskine, Langton, Dr. Warton, Metcalfe, Dr. Lawrence, his brother, a clergyman, Sir Charles Bunbury, myself." " Feb. 10. 1791. Yours of the 5th reached me yester- day. I instantly went to the Don, who purchased for you at the office of Hazard and Co. a half, stamped by govern- ment and warranted undrawn, of No. 43,152. in the English State Lottery. I have marked on the back of it " Edmund, Henrietta, and Catharine Malone ;" and if Fortune will not favour those three united, I shall blame her. This half shall lie in my bureau with my one whole one, till you desire it to be placed elsewhere. The cost with registration is 8/. 12s. 6d. A half is always pro- portionally dearer than a whole. I bought my ticket at Nicholson's the day before, and paid 16/. 8*. for it. I did not look at the number, but sealed it up. In the evening a hand-bill was circulated by Nicholson, that a ticket the day before sold at his office for 16/. 8s. was drawn a prize of 5000/. The number was mentioned in the hand-bill. I had resolved not to know what mine was till after the drawing of the lottery was finished, that I might not receive a sudden shock of blank ; but this un- expected circumstance, which elated me by calculating that mine must certainly be one of 100, or at most 200 sold by Nicholson the day before, made me look at the two last figures of it ; which, alas ! were 48, whereas those (1) [Dr. Laurence was blackballed, and did not become a member of the Club till December, 1802.] BOSWELL. 509 of the fortunate one were S3. I have remanded my ticket to its secrecy. O ! could I but get a few thousands, what a difference would it make upon my state of mind, which is harassed by thinking of my debts. I am anxious to hear your determination as to my Magnum Opus. I am very very unwilling to part with the property of it, and certainly would not, if I could but get credit for 1000^ for three or four years. Could you not assist me in that way, on the security of the book, and of an assignment to one half of my rents, J00L, which, upon my honour, are always due, and would be forthcoming in case of my decease ? I will not sell, till I have your answer as to this. " On Tuesday we had a Club of eleven — Lords Lucan (in the chair), Ossory, Macartney, Eliot, Bishop of Clon- fert, young Burke, myself, Courtenay, Windham, Sir Joshua, and Charles Fox, who takes to us exceedingly, and asked to have dinner a little later ; so it was to be at half-past five. Burke had made great interest for his drum-major, and, would you believe it ? had not Courtenay and I been there, he would have been chosen. I am strangely ill, and doubt if even you could dispel the de- moniac influence. I have now before me p. 488. in print : the 923 pages of the copy only are exhausted, and there remain 80, besides the death ; as to which I shall be concise, though solemn. Pray how shall I wind up ? Shall I give the character from my Tour, somewhat en- larged ?" " London, Feb. 25. 1791. I have not seen Sir Joshua I think for a fortnight. I have been worse than you can possibly imagine, or I hope ever shall be able to imagine ; which no man can do without experiencing the malady. It has been for some time painful to me to be in company. I, however, am a little better, and to meet Sir Joshua to- day at dinner at Mr. Dance's, and shall tell him that he is to have good Irish claret. " I am in a distressing perplexity how to decide as to the property of my book. You must know, that I am certainly informed that a certain person who delights in mischief has been depreciating it, so that I fear the sale OIO JOHNSONIANA. of it may be very dubious. Two quartos and two guineas sound in an alarming manner. I believe, in my present frame, I should accept even of 500/. ; for I suspect that were I now to talk to Robinson, I should find him not disposed to give 1000/. Did he absolutely offer it, or did he only express himself so as that you concluded he would give it ? The pressing circumstance is, that I must lay down 1000/. by the 1st of May, on account of the purchase of land, which my old family enthusiasm urged me to make. You, I doubt not, have full confidence in my honesty. May I then ask you if you could venture to join with me in a bond for that sum, as then I would take my chance, and, as Sir Joshua says, game with my book? Upon my honour, your telling me that you cannot comply with what I propose will not in the least surprise me, or make any manner of difference as to my opinion of your friendship. I mean to ask Sir Joshua if he will join ; for indeed I should be vexed to sell my Magnum Opus for a great deal less than its intrinsic value. I meant to publish on Shrove Tuesday ; but if I can get out within the month of March I shall be satisfied. I have now, I think, four or Jive sheets to print, which will make my second volume about 5TJ5 pages. But I shall have more cancels. That nervous mortal W. G. H. ( l ) is not satis- fied with my report of some particulars which I wrote down from his own mouth, and is so much agitated, that Courtenay has persuaded me to allow a new edition of them by H. himself to be made at H.'s expense. Besides, it has occurred to me, that when I mention " a literary fraud" by Rolt the historian, in going to Dublin, and' publishing Akenside's Pleasures of the Imagination, with his own name, I may not be able to authenticate it, as Johnson is dead, and he may have relations who may take it up as an offence, perhaps a libel, Courtenay suggests, that you may perhaps get intelligence whether it was true. The Bishop of Dromore can probably tell, as he knows a great deal about Rolt. In case of doubt, should I not cancel the leaf, and either omit the curious anecdote or (1) [Single-speech Hamilton.] BOSWELL. 511 give it as a story which Johnson laughingly told as having circulated ?" " March 8. I have before me your volunteer letter of February 24th, and one of 5th current, which, if you have dated it right, has come with wonderful expedition. You may be perfectly sure that I have not the smallest fault to find with your disinclination to come again under any pecuniary engagements for others, after having suffered so much. Dilly proposes that he and Baldwin should each advance 200/. on the credit of my book ; and if they do so, I shall manage well enough, for I now find that I can have 600/. in Scotland on the credit of my rents ; and thus I shall get the 1000/. paid in May. " You would observe some stupid lines on Mr. Burke in the ' Oracle' by Mr, Boswell ! I instantly wrote to Mr. Burke, expressing my indignation at such imper- tinence, and had next morning a most obliging answer. Sir William Scott told me I could have no legal redress. So I went civilly to Bell, and he promised to mention handsomely that James Boswell, Esq. was not the author of the lines. The note, however, on the subject was a second impertinence. But I can do nothing. I wish Fox, in his bill upon libels, would make a heavy penalty the consequence of forging any person's name to any com- position, which, in reality, such a trick amounts to. " In the night between the last of February and first of this month, I had a sudden relief from the inexplicable disorder, which occasionally clouds my mind and makes me miserable, and it is amazing how well I have been since. Your friendly admonition as to excess in wine has been often too applicable ; but upon this late occasion I erred on the other side. However, as I am now free from my restriction to Courtenay, I shall be much upon my guard ; for, to tell the truth, I did go too deep the day before yesterday ; having dined with Michael Angelo Taylor, and then supped at the London Tavern with the stewards of the Humane Society, and continued till I know not what hour in the morning. John Nichols was joyous to a pitch of bacchanalian vivacity. I am to dine with him next 512 JOHNSONIANA. Monday; an excellent city party, Alderman Curtis, Deputy Birch, &c. &c. I rated him gently on his saying so little of your Shakspeare. (') He is ready to receive more ample notice. You may depend on your having whatever reviews that mention you sent directly. Have I told you that Murphy has written c An Essay on the Life and Writings of Dr. Johnson,' to be prefixed to the new edition of his works ? He wrote it in a month, and has received 200/. for it. I am quite resolved now to keep the property of my Magnum Opus ; and I flatter myself I shall not repent it. " My title, as we settled it, is ' The Life of Samuel Johnson, LL.D., comprehending an account of his studies and various works, in chronological order, his conversa- tions with many eminent persons, a series of his letters to celebrated men, and several original pieces of his com- position ; the whole exhibiting a view of literature and literary men in Great Britain, for near half a century, during which he flourished/ It will be very kind if you will suggest what yet occurs. I hoped to have published to-day ; but it will be about a month yet before I launch." " March 12. Being the depositary of your chance in the lottery, I am under the disagreeable necessity of com- municating the bad news that it has been drawn a blank. I am very sorry, both on your account and that of your sisters, and my own ; for had your share of good fortune been 3166/. 13*. 4 » UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY Los Angeles N*> % This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. s HEFDUMJil SFP 091985 JW-13J989 MAR l 6 1330 £p 0315SP *f&5$ it W SP ^Pft-TKi*' mm?