IN 1776, Johnſon wrote, ſo far as I can diſcover, nothing for the publick: but that his mind was ſtill ardent, and fraught with generous wiſhes to attain to ſtill higher degrees of literary excellence, is proved by his private notes of this year, which I ſhall inſert in their proper place.

At this time was in agitation a matter of great conſequence to me and my family, which I ſhould not obtrude upon the world, were it not that the part which Dr. Johnſon's friendſhip for me made him take in it was the occaſion of an exertion of his abilities, which it would be injuſtice to conceal. That what he wrote upon the ſubject may be underſtood, it is neceſſary to give a ſtate of the queſtion, which I ſhall do as briefly as I can.

In the year 1504, the barony or manour of Auchinleck, (pronounced Affleck,) in Ayrſhire, which belonged to a family of the ſame name with the lands, having fallen to the Crown by forfeiture, James the Fourth, King of Scotland, granted it to Thomas Boſwell, a branch of an ancient family in the county of Fife, ſtiling him in the charter, ‘"dilecto familiari noſtro;"’ and aſſigning, as the cauſe of the grant, ‘"pro bono et fideli ſervitio nobis praeſtito."’ Thomas Boſwell was ſlain in battle, fighting along with his Sovereign, at the fatal field of Floddon, in 1513.

From this very honourable founder of our family, the eſtate was tranſmitted, in a direct ſeries of heirs male, to David Boſwell, my father's great grand uncle, who had no ſons, but four daughters, who were all reſpectably married, the eldeſt to Lord Cathcart.

David Boſwell, being reſolute in the military feudal principle of continuing the male ſucceſſion, paſſed by his daughters, and ſettled the eſtate on his nephew by his next brother, who approved of the deed, and renounced any pretenſions which he might poſſibly have, in preference to his ſon. But the eſtate having been burthened with large portions to the daughters, and other debts, it was neceſſary for the nephew to ſell a conſiderable part of it, and what remained was ſtill much encumbered.

The frugality of the nephew preſerved, and, in ſome degree, relieved the eſtate. His ſon, my grandfather, an eminent lawyer, not only re-purchaſed a great part of what had been ſold, but acquired other lands; and my father, [3] who was one of the Judges of Scotland, and had added conſiderably to the eſtate, now ſignified his inclination to take the privilege allowed by our law ¹, to ſecure it to his family in perpetuity by an entail, which, on account of marriage articles, could not be done without my conſent.

In the plan of entailing the eſtate, I heartily concurred with him, though I was the firſt to be reſtrained by it; but we unhappily differed as to the ſeries of heirs which ſhould be eſtabliſhed, or in the language of our law, called to the ſucceſſion. My father had declared a predilection for heirs general, that is, males and females indiſcriminately. He was willing, however, that all males deſcending from his grandfather ſhould be preferred to females; but would not extend that privilege to males deriving their deſcent from a higher ſource. I, on the other hand, had a zealous partiality for heirs male, however remote, which I maintained, by arguments which appeared to me to have conſiderable weight ². And in the particular caſe of our family, I appre⯑hended that we were under an implied obligation, in honour and good faith, to tranſmit the eſtate by the ſame tenure which we held it, which was as heirs male, excluding nearer females. I therefore, as I thought conſcientiouſly, objected to my father's ſcheme.

[4] My oppoſition was very diſpleaſing to my father, who was entitled to great reſpect and deference; and I had reaſon to apprehend diſagreeable conſequences from my non-compliance with his wiſhes. After much perplexity and uneaſi⯑neſs, I wrote to Dr. Johnſon, ſtating the caſe, with all its difficulties, at full length, and earneſtly requeſting that he would conſider it at leiſure, and favour me with his friendly opinion and advice.

I had followed his recommendation and conſulted Lord Hailes, who upon this ſubject had a firm opinion contrary to mine. His Lordſhip obligingly took the trouble to write me a letter, in which he diſcuſſed with legal and hiſtorical learning, the points in which I ſaw much difficulty, maintaining that ‘"the ſucceſſion of heirs general was the ſucceſſion, by the law of Scotland, from the throne to the cottage, as far as we can learn it by record;"’ obſerving that the eſtate of our family had not been limited to heirs male, and that though an heir male had in one inſtance been choſen in preference to nearer females, that had been an arbitrary act, which had ſeemed to be beſt in the embarraſſed ſtate of affairs at that time; and the fact was, that upon a fair computation of the value of land and money at the time, applied to the eſtate and the burthens upon it, there was nothing given to the heir male but the ſkeleton of an eſtate, ‘"The plea of conſcience (ſaid his Lordſhip) which you put, is a moſt reſpectable one, eſpecially when conſcience and ſelf are on different ſides. But I think that conſcience is not well informed, and that ſelf and ſhe ought on this occaſion to be of a ſide."’

This letter, which had conſiderable influence upon my mind, I ſent to Dr. Johnſon, begging to hear from him again, upon this intereſting queſtion.

Having communicated to Lord Hailes what Dr. Johnſon wrote concerning the queſtion which perplexed me ſo much, his Lordſhip wrote to me, ‘"Your ſcruples have produced more fruit than I ever expected from them; an excellent diſſertation on general principles of morals and law."’

I wrote to Dr. Johnſon on the 20th of February, complaining of melan⯑choly, and expreſſing a ſtrong deſire to be with him; informing him that the ten packets came all ſafe; that Lord Hailes was much obliged to him, and ſaid he had almoſt wholly removed his ſcruples againſt entails.

Above thirty years ago, the heirs of Lord Chancellor Clarendon preſented the Univerſity of Oxford with the continuation of his Hiſtory, and ſuch other of his Lordſhip's manuſcripts as had not been publiſhed, on condition that the profits ariſing from their publication ſhould be applied to the eſtabliſhment of a Manege in the Univerſity. The gift was accepted in full convocation. A perſon being now recommended to Dr. Johnſon, as fit to ſuperintend this propoſed riding-ſchool, he exerted himſelf with that zeal for which he was remarkable upon every ſimilar occaſion. But, on enquiry into the matter, he found that the ſcheme was not likely to be ſoon carried into execution; the profits ariſing from the Clarendon preſs being, from ſome miſmanagement, very ſcanty. This having been explained to him by a reſpectable dignitary of the church, who had good means of knowing it, he wrote a letter upon the ſubject, which at once exhibits his extraordinary preciſion and acuteneſs, and his warm attachment to his ALMA MATER.

[15] Having arrived in London late on Friday, the 15th of March, I haſtened next morning to wait on Dr. Johnſon, at his houſe; but found he was removed from Johnſon's-court, No. 7, to Bolt-court, No. 8, ſtill keeping to his favourite Fleet-ſtreet. My reflection at the time upon this change as marked in my Journal, is, as follows, ‘"I felt a fooliſh regret that he had left a court which bore his name; but it was not fooliſh to be affected with ſome tenderneſs of regard for a place in which I had ſeen him a great deal, from whence I had often iſſued a better and a happier man than when I went in, and which had often appeared to my imagination while I trod its pavement, in the ſolemn darkneſs of the night, to be ſacred to wiſdom and piety."’ Being informed that he was at Mr. Thrale's, in the Borough, I haſtened thither, and found Mrs. Thrale and him at breakfaſt. I was kindly welcomed. In a moment he was in a full glow of converſation, and I felt myſelf elevated as if brought into another ſtate of being. Mrs. Thrale and I looked to each other while he talked, and our looks expreſſed our congenial admiration and affection for him. I ſhall ever recollect this ſcene with great pleaſure. I exclaimed to her, ‘"I am now, intellectually, Hermippus redivivus, I am quite reſtored by him, by transfuſion of mind."’ ‘"There are many (ſhe replied,) who admire and reſpect Mr. Johnſon, but you and I love him."’

He ſeemed very happy in the near proſpect of going to Italy with Mr. and Mrs. Thrale. ‘"But (ſaid he,) before leaving England I am to take a jaunt to Oxford, Birmingham, my native city Lichfield, and my old friend, Dr. Taylor's, at Aſhbourne, in Derbyſhire. I ſhall go in a few days, and you, Boſwell, ſhall go with me."’ I was ready to accompany him; being willing even to leave London to have the pleaſure of his converſation.

I mentioned with much regret the extravagance of the repreſentative of a great family in Scotland, by which there was danger of its being ruined; and as Johnſon reſpected it for its antiquity, he joined with me in thinking it would be happy if this perſon ſhould die. Mrs. Thrale ſeemed ſhocked at this, as feudal barbarity; and ſaid, ‘"I do not underſtand this preference of the eſtate to its owner; of the land to the man who walks upon that land."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Nay, Madam, it is not a preference of the land to its owner; it is the preference of a family to an individual. Here is an eſtabliſhment in a country, which is of importance for ages not only to the chief but to his people; an eſtabliſhment which extends upwards and downwards; that this ſhould be deſtroyed by one idle fellow is a ſad thing."’

[16] He ſaid ‘"Entails are good, becauſe it is good to preſerve in a country, ſerieses of men, to whom the people are accuſtomed to look up as to their leaders. But I am for leaving a quantity of land in commerce, to excite induſtry and keep money in the country; for if no land were to be bought in a country, there would be no encouragement to acquire wealth, becauſe a family could not be founded there; or if it were acquired, it muſt be carried away to another country where land may be bought. And although the land in every country will remain the ſame, and be as fertile where there is no money, as where there is, yet all that portion of the happineſs of civil life, which is produced by money circulating in a country, would be loſt."’ BOSWELL. ‘"Then, Sir, would it be for the advantage of a country that all its lands were ſold at once?"’ JOHNSON. ‘"So far, Sir, as money produces good it would be an advantage; for, then that country would have as much money circu⯑lating in it as it is worth. But to be ſure this would be counterbalanced by diſadvantages attending a total change of proprietors."’

I expreſſed my opinion that the power of entailing ſhould be limited thus: ‘"That there ſhould be one third, or perhaps one half of the land of a country kept free for commerce; that the proportion allowed to be entailed, ſhould be parcelled out ſo as that no family could entail above a certain quantity. Let a family according to the abilities of its repreſentatives, be richer or poorer in different generations, or always rich if its repreſentatives be always wiſe: but let its abſolute permanency be moderate. In this way we ſhould be certain of there being always a number of eſtabliſhed roots; and as in the courſe of nature, there is in every age an extinction of ſome families, there would be continual openings for men ambitious of perpetuity, to plant a ſtock in the entail ground ⁹.’ JOHNSON. ‘"Why, Sir, mankind will be better able to regu⯑late the ſyſtem of entails, when the evil of too much land being locked up by them is felt, than we can do at preſent when it is not felt."’

I mentioned Dr. Adam Smith's book on ‘"The Wealth of Nations,"’ which was juſt publiſhed, and that Sir John Pringle had obſerved to me, that Dr. Smith, who had never been in trade, could not be expected to write well [17] on that ſubject any more than a lawyer upon phyſick. JOHNSON. ‘"He is miſtaken, Sir; a man who has never been engaged in trade himſelf may undoubtedly write well upon trade, and there is nothing which requires more to be illuſtrated by philoſophy than trade does. As to mere wealth, that is to ſay, money, it is clear that one nation or one individual cannot increaſe its ſtore but by making another poorer: but trade procures what is more valu⯑able, the reciprocation of the peculiar advantages of different countries. A merchant ſeldom thinks but of his own particular trade. To write a good book upon it, a man muſt have extenſive views. It is not neceſſary to have practiſed, to write well upon a ſubject."’ I mentioned law as a ſubject on which no man could write well without practice. JOHNSON. ‘"Why, Sir, in England, where ſo much money is to be got by the practice of the law, moſt of our writers upon it have been in practice; though Blackſtone had not been much in practice when he publiſhed his 'Commentaries.' But upon the Continent, the great writers on law have not all been in practice: Grotius, indeed, was; but Puffendorf was not, Burlamaqui was not."’

When we had talked of the great conſequence which a man acquired by being employed in his profeſſion, I ſuggeſted a doubt of the juſtice of the general opinion, that it is improper in a lawyer to ſolicit employment; for why, I urged, ſhould it not be equally allowable to ſolicit that as the means of conſequence, as it is to ſolicit votes to be elected a member of parliament? Mr. Strahan had told me, that a countryman of his and mine, who had riſen to eminence in the law, had, when firſt making his way, ſolicited him to get him employed in city cauſes. JOHNSON. ‘"Sir, it is wrong to ſtir up law-ſuits; but when once it is certain that a law-ſuit is to go on, there is nothing wrong in a lawyer's endeavouring that he ſhall have the benefit rather than another."’ BOSWELL. ‘"You would not ſolicit employment, Sir, if you were a lawyer."’ JOHNSON. ‘"No, Sir; but not becauſe I ſhould think it wrong, but becauſe I ſhould diſdain it."’ This was a good diſtinction, which will be felt by men of juſt pride. He proceeded: ‘"However, I would not have a lawyer to be wanting to himſelf in uſing fair means. I would have him to inject a little hint now and then, to prevent his being overlooked."’

Lord Mounſtuart's bill for a Scotch militia, in ſupporting which his Lord⯑ſhip had made an able ſpeech in the Houſe of Commons, was now a pretty general topick of converſation.—JOHNSON. ‘"As Scotland contributes ſo little land-tax towards the general ſupport of the nation▪ ought not to have a militia paid out of the general fund, unleſs it ſhould be thought for the general intereſt, that Scotland ſhould be protected from an invaſion, which no man [18] can think will happen; for what enemy would invade Scotland, where there is nothing to be got? No, Sir; now that the Scotch have not the pay of Engliſh ſoldiers ſpent among them, as ſo many troops are ſent abroad, they are trying to get money another way by having a militia paid. If they are afraid, and ſeriouſly deſire to have an armed force to defend them, they ſhould pay for it. Your ſcheme is to retain a part of your little land-tax, by making us pay and clothe your militia."’ BOSWELL. ‘"You ſhould not talk of we and you, Sir; there is now an Union."’ JOHNSON. ‘"There muſt be a diſtinction of intereſt, while the proportions of land-tax are ſo unequal. If Yorkſhire ſhould ſay, 'Inſtead of paying our land-tax, we will keep a greater number of militia,' it would be unreaſonable."’ In this argument my friend was certainly in the wrong. The land-tax is as unequally proportioned between different parts of England, as between England and Scotland; nay, it is conſiderably unequal in Scotland itſelf. But the land-tax is but a ſmall part of the numerous branches of publick revenue, all of which Scotland pays preciſely as England does. A French invaſion made in Scotland would ſoon penetrate into England.

He thus diſcourſed upon ſuppoſed obligations in ſettling eſtates:—‘"Where a man gets the unlimited property of an eſtate, there is no obligation upon him in juſtice to leave it to one perſon rather than to another. There is a motive of preference from kindneſs, and this kindneſs is generally entertained for the neareſt relation. If I owe a particular man a ſum of money, I am obliged to let that man have the next money I get, and cannot in juſtice let another have it: but if I owe money to no man, I may diſpoſe of what I get as I pleaſe. There is not a debitum juſtitiae to a man's next heir; there is only a debitum caritatis. It is plain, then, that I have morally a choice, accord⯑ing to my liking. If I have a brother in want, he has a claim from affection to my aſſiſtance: but if I have alſo a brother in want, whom I like better, he has a preferable claim. The right of an heir at law is only this, that he is to have the ſucceſſion to an eſtate, in caſe no other perſon is appointed to it by the owner. His right is merely preferable to that of the King."’

We got into a boat to croſs over to Black-friars; and as we moved along the Thames, I talked to him of a little volume, which, altogether unknown to him, was advertiſed to be publiſhed in a few days, under the title of ‘"Johnſoniana, or Bon Mots of Dr. Johnſon."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Sir, it is a mighty impudent thing."’ BOSWELL. ‘"Pray, Sir, could you have no redreſs if you were to proſecute a publiſher for bringing out, under your name, what you never ſaid, and aſcribing to you dull ſtupid nonſenſe, or making you ſwear profanely, as many ignorant relaters of your bon mots do?"’ JOHNSON. ‘"No, [19] Sir; there will always be ſome truth mixed with the falſehood, and how can it be aſcertained how much is true and how much is falſe? Beſides, Sir, what damages would a jury give me for having been repreſented as ſwearing?"’ BOSWELL. ‘"I think, Sir, you ſhould at leaſt diſavow ſuch a publication, becauſe the world and poſterity might with much plauſible foundation ſay, 'Here is a volume which was publickly advertiſed and came out in Dr▪ Johnſon's own time, and, by his ſilence, was admitted by him to be genuine▪"’ JOHNSON. ‘"I ſhall give myſelf no trouble about the matter."’

He was, perhaps, above ſuffering from ſuch ſpurious publications; but I could not help thinking, that many men would be much injured in their reputation, by having abſurd and vicious ſayings imputed to them; and that redreſs ought in ſuch caſes to be given.

He ſaid, ‘"The value of every ſtory depends on its being true. A ſtory is a picture either of an individual or of human nature in general: if it be falſe, it is a picture of nothing. For inſtance: ſuppoſe a man ſhould tell that Johnſon, before ſetting out for Italy, as he had to croſs the Alps, fat down to make himſelf wings. This many people would believe; but it would be a picture of nothing. ******* (naming a worthy friend of ours,) uſed to think a ſtory, a ſtory, till I ſhewed him that truth was eſſential to it."’ I obſerved, that Foote entertained us with ſtories which were not true; but that, indeed, it was properly not as narratives that Foote's ſtories pleaſed us, but as collections of ludicrous images. JOHNSON. ‘"Foote is quite impartial, for he tells lies of every body."’

The importance of ſtrict and ſcrupulous veracity cannot be too often incul⯑cated. Johnſon was known to be ſo rigidly attentive to it, that even in his common converſation the ſlighteſt circumſtance was mentioned with exact preciſion. The knowledge of his having ſuch a principle and habit made his friends have a perfect reliance on the truth of every thing that he told, how⯑ever it might have been doubted if told by many others. As an inſtance of this, I may mention an odd incident which he related as having happened to him one night in Fleet-ſtreet. ‘"A gentlewoman (ſaid he) begged I would give her my arm to aſſiſt her in croſſing the ſtreet, which I accordingly did; upon which ſhe offered me a ſhilling, ſuppoſing me to be the watchman. I per⯑ceived that ſhe was ſomewhat in liquor."’ This, if told by moſt people, would have been thought an invention: when told by J [...]nſon, it was believed by his friends as much as if they had ſeen what paſſed.

We landed at the Temple-ſtairs, where we parted.

[20] I found him in the evening in Mrs. Williams's room. We talked of religious orders. He ſaid, ‘"It is as unreaſonable for a man to go into a Car⯑thuſian convent, for fear of being immoral, as for a man to cut off his hands for fear he ſhould ſteal. There is, indeed, great reſolution in the immediate act of diſmembering himſelf; but when that is once done, he has no longer any merit: for though it is out of his power to ſteal, yet he may all his life be a thief in his heart. So when a man has once become a Carthuſian, he is obliged to continue ſo, whether he chooſes it or not. Their ſilence, too, is abſurd. We read in the goſpel of the apoſtles being ſent to preach, but not to hold their tongues. All ſeverity that does not tend to increaſe good, or prevent evil, is idle. I ſaid to the Lady Abbeſs of a convent, 'Madam, you are here, not for the love of virtue, but the fear of vice.' She ſaid, 'She ſhould remember this as long as ſhe lived."’ I thought it hard to give her this view of her ſituation, when ſhe could not help it; and, indeed, I won⯑dered at the whole of what he now ſaid; becauſe, both in his ‘"Rambler"’ and ‘"Idler,"’ he treats religious auſterities with much ſolemnity of reſpect.

Finding him ſtill perſevering in his abſtinence from wine, I ventured to ſpeak to him of it.—JOHNSON. ‘"Sir, I have no objection to a man's drinking wine, if he can do it in moderation. I found myſelf apt to go to exceſs in it, and therefore, after having been for ſome time without it, on account of ill⯑neſs, I thought it better not to return to it. Every man is to judge for himſelf, according to the effects which he experiences. One of the fathers tells us, he found faſting made him ſo peeviſh that he did not practiſe it."’

Though he often enlarged upon the evil of intoxication, he was by no means harſh and unforgiving to thoſe who indulged in occaſional exceſs in wine. One of his friends, I well remember, came to ſup at a tavern with him and ſome other gentlemen, and too plainly diſcovered that he had drunk too much at dinner. When one who loved miſchief, thinking to produce a ſevere cenſure, aſked Johnſon, ſome days afterwards, ‘"Well, Sir, what did your friend ſay to you, as an apology for being in ſuch a ſituation?"’ Johnſon anſwered, ‘"Sir, he ſaid all that a man ſhould ſay: he ſaid he was ſorry for it."’

I heard him once give a very judicious practical advice upon this ſubject: ‘"A man, (ſaid he,) who has been drinking wine at all freely, ſhould never go into a new company▪ With thoſe who have partaken of wine with him, he may be pretty well in uniſon; but he will probably be offenſive, or appear ridiculous, to other people.’

[21] He allowed very great influence to education. ‘"I do not deny, Sir, but there is ſome original difference in minds; but it is nothing in compariſon of what is formed by education. We may inſtance the ſcience of numbers, which all minds are equally capable of attaining; yet we find a prodigious difference in the powers of different men, in that reſpect, after they are grown up, becauſe their minds have been more or leſs exerciſed in it; and I think the ſame cauſe will explain the difference of excellence in other things, gradations admitting always ſome difference in the firſt principles."’

This is a difficult ſubject; but it is beſt to hope that diligence may do a great deal. We are ſure of what it can do, in increaſing our mechanical force and dexterity.

I again viſited him on Monday. He took occaſion to enlarge, as he often did, upon the wretchedneſs of a ſea-life. ‘"A ſhip is worſe than a gaol. There is, in a gaol, better air, better company, better conveniency of every kind; and a ſhip has the additional diſadvantage of being in danger. When men come to like a ſea-life, they are not fit to live on land."’—‘"Then (ſaid I,) it would be cruel in a father to breed his ſon to the ſea."’ JOHNSON. ‘"It would be cruel in a father who thinks as I do. Men go to ſea, before they know the unhappineſs of that way of life; and when they have come to know it, they cannot eſcape from it, becauſe it is then too late to chooſe another profeſſion; as indeed is generally the caſe with men, when they have once engaged in any particular way of life."’

On Tueſday, March 19, which was fixed for our propoſed jaunt, we met in the morning at the Somerſet coffee-houſe in the Strand, where we were taken up by the Oxford coach. He was accompanied by Mr. Gwyn, the architect; and a gentleman of Merton College, whom we did not know, had the fourth ſeat. We ſoon got into converſation; for it was very remarkable of Johnſon, that the preſence of a ſtranger was no reſtraint upon his talk. I obſerved that Garrick, who was about to quit the ſtage, would ſoon have an eaſier life. JOHNSON. ‘"I doubt that, Sir."’ BOSWELL. ‘"Why, Sir, he will be Atlas with the burthen off his back."’ JOHNSON. ‘"But I know not, Sir, if he will be ſo ſteady without his load. However, he ſhould never play any more, but be entirely the gentleman, and not partly the player: he ſhould no longer ſubject himſelf to be hiſſed by a mob, or to be inſolently treated by performers, whom he uſed to rule with a high hand, and who would gladly retaliate."’ BOSWELL. ‘"I think he ſhould play once [...] year for the benefit of decayed actors, as it has been ſaid he means to do."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Alas, Sir! he will ſoon be a decayed actor himſelf."’

[22] Johnſon expreſſed his diſapprobation of ornamental architecture, ſuch as mag⯑nificent columns ſupporting a portico, or expenſive pilaſters ſupporting merely their own capitals, ‘"becauſe it conſumes labour diſproportionate to its utility."’ For the ſame reaſon he ſatyriſed ſtatuary. ‘"Painting (ſaid he,) conſumes labour not diſproportionate to its effect; but a fellow will hack half a year at a block of marble to make ſomething in ſtone that hardly reſembles a man. The value of ſtatuary is owing to its difficulty. You would not value the fineſt head cut upon a carrot."’ Here he ſeemed to me to be ſtrangely deficient in taſte; for ſurely ſtatuary is a noble art of imitation, and preſerves a wonderful expreſſion of the varieties of the human frame; and although it muſt be allowed that the circumſtances of difficulty enhances the value of a marble head, we ſhould conſider, that if it requires a long time in the performance, it has a proportionate value in durability.

Gwyn was a fine lively rattling fellow. Dr. Johnſon kept him in ſubjection, but with a kindly authority. The ſpirit of the artiſt, however, roſe againſt what he thought a Gothick attack, and he made a briſk defence. ‘"What, Sir, will you allow no value to beauty in architecture or in ſtatuary? Why ſhould we allow it then in writing? Why do you take the trouble to give us ſo many fine alluſions, and bright images, and elegant phraſes? You might convey all your inſtruction without theſe ornaments."’ Johnſon ſmiled with complacency; but ſaid, ‘"Why, Sir, all theſe ornaments are uſeful, becauſe they obtain an eaſier reception for truth; but a building is not at all more convenient for being decorated with ſuperfluous carved work."’

Gwyn at laſt was lucky enough to make one reply to Dr. Johnſon, which he allowed to be excellent. Johnſon cenſured him for taking down a church which might have ſtood many years, and building a new one at a different place, for no other reaſon but that there might be a direct road to a new bridge; and his expreſſion was, ‘"You are taking a church out of the way, that the people may go in a ſtraight line to the bridge."’—‘"No, Sir (ſaid Gwyn) I am putting the church in the way, that the people may not go out of the way."’ JOHNSON. (with a hearty loud laugh of approbation,) ‘"Speak no more. Reſt your colloquial fame upon this."’

Upon our arrival at Oxford, Dr. Johnſon and I went directly to Univerſity College, but were diſappointed on finding that one of the fellows, his friend Mr. Scott, who accompanied him from Newcaſtle to Edinburgh, was gone to the country. We put up at the Angel inn, and paſſed the evening by ourſelves in eaſy and familiar converſation. Talking of conſtitutional melancholy, he obſerved, ‘"A man ſo afflicted, Sir, muſt divert diſtreſſing [23] thoughts, and not combat with them."’ BOSWELL. ‘"May not he think them down, Sir?"’ JOHNSON. ‘"No, Sir. To attempt to think them down is madneſs. He ſhould have a lamp conſtantly burning in his bed-chamber during the night, and if wakefully diſturbed, take a book, and read, and compoſe himſelf to reſt. To have the management of the mind is a great art, and it may be attained in a conſiderable degree by experience and habitual exerciſe."’ BOSWELL. ‘"Should not he provide amuſements for him⯑ſelf? Would it not, for inſtance, be right for him to take a courſe of chymiſtry?"’ JOHNSON. ‘"Let him take a courſe of chymiſtry, or a courſe of rope-dancing, or a courſe of any thing to which he is inclined at the time. Let him contrive to have as many retreats for his mind as he can, as many things to which it can fly from itſelf. Burton's 'Anatomy of Melancholy' is a valuable work. It is, perhaps, overloaded with quotation. But there is great ſpirit and great power in what Burton ſays, when he writes from his own mind."’

Next morning we viſited Dr. Wetherell, Maſter of Univerſity College, with whom Dr. Johnſon conferred on the moſt advantageous mode of diſpoſing of the books printed at the Clarendon preſs, on which ſubject his letter has been inſerted in a former page. I often had occaſion to remark, Johnſon loved buſineſs, loved to have his wiſdom actually operate on real life. Dr. Wetherell and I talked of him without reſerve in his own preſence. WETHERELL. ‘"I would have given him a hundred guineas if he would have written a preface to his 'Political Tracts,' by way of a Diſcourſe on the Britiſh Conſtitution."’ BOSWELL. ‘"Dr. Johnſon, though in his writings, and upon all occaſions a great friend to the conſtitution both in church and ſtate, has never written expreſsly in ſupport of either. There is really a claim upon him for both. I am ſure he could give a volume of no great bulk upon each, which would compriſe all the ſubſtance, and with his ſpirit would effectually maintain them. He ſhould erect a fort on the confines of each."’ I could perceive that he was diſpleaſed by this dialogue. He burſt out, ‘"Why ſhould I be always writing?"’ I hoped he was conſcious that the debt was juſt, and meant to diſcharge it, though he diſliked being dunned.

We then went to Pembroke College, and waited on his old friend Dr. Adams, the maſter of it, whom I found to be a moſt polite, pleaſing, com⯑municative man. Before his advancement to the headſhip of his College, I had intended to go and viſit him at Shrewſbury, where he was rector of St. Chad's, in order to get from him what particulars he could recollect of Johnſon's academical life. He now obligingly gave me part of that [24] authentick information, which, with what I afterwards owed to his kindneſs, will be found incorporated in its proper place in this work.

Dr. Adams had diſtinguiſhed himſelf by an able anſwer to David Hume's ‘"Eſſay on Miracles."’ He told me he had once dined in company with Hume in London; that Hume ſhook hands with him, and ſaid, ‘"You have treated me much better than I deſerve;"’ and that they exchanged viſits. I took the liberty to object to treating an infidel writer with ſmooth civility. Where there is a controverſy concerning a paſſage in a claſſick authour, or concerning a queſtion in antiquities, or any other ſubject in which human happineſs is not deeply intereſted, a man may treat his antagoniſt with politeneſs and even reſpect. But where the controverſy is concerning the truth of religion, it is of ſuch vaſt importance to him who maintains it, to obtain the victory, that the perſon of an opponent ought not to be ſpared. If a man firmly believes that religion is an invaluable treaſure, he will conſider a writer who endeavours to deprive mankind of it as a robber; he will look upon him as odious, though the Infidel may think himſelf in the right. A robber who reaſons as the gang do in the ‘"Beggar's Opera,"’ who call themſelves practical philoſophers, and may have as much ſincerity as pernicious ſpecu⯑lative philoſophers, is not the leſs an object of juſt indignation. An aban⯑doned profligate may think that it is not wrong to debauch my wife; but ſhall I, therefore, not deteſt him? And if I catch him making an attempt ſhall I treat him with politeneſs? No, I will kick him down ſtairs, or run him through the body: that is, if I really love my wife, or have a true rational notion of honour. An Infidel then ſhould not be treated handſomely by a Chriſtian, merely becauſe he endeavours to rob with ingenuity. I do declare, however, that I am exceedingly unwilling to be provoked to anger, and could I be perſuaded that truth would not ſuffer from a cool moderation in its defenders, I ſhould wiſh to preſerve good humour, at leaſt, in every controverſy; nor, indeed, do I ſee why a man ſhould loſe his temper while he does all he can to refute an opponent. I think ridicule may be fairly uſed againſt an infidel; for inſtance, if he be an ugly fellow, and yet abſurdly vain of his perſon, we may contraſt his appearance with Cicero's beautiful image of Virtue, could ſhe be ſeen. Johnſon coincided with me and ſaid, ‘"When a man voluntarily engages in an important controverſy, he is to do all he can to leſſen his antagoniſt, becauſe authority from perſonal reſpect has much weight with moſt people, and often more than reaſoning. If my antagoniſt writes bad language, though that may not be eſſential to the queſtion; I will attack him for his bad language."’ ADAMS. ‘"You would [25] not joſtle a chimney-ſweeper."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Yes, Sir, if it were neceſſary to joſtle him down."’

Dr. Adams told us, that in ſome of the Colleges at Oxford, the fellows had excluded the ſtudents from ſocial intercourſe with them in the common room. JOHNSON. ‘"They are in the right, Sir, for there can be no real converſation, no fair exertion of mind amongſt them, if the young men are by; for a man who has a character does not chooſe to ſtake it in their preſence."’ BOSWELL. ‘"But, Sir, may there not be very good converſation without a conteſt for ſuperiority?"’ JOHNSON. ‘"No animated converſation, Sir, for it cannot be but one or other will come off ſuperiour. I do not mean that the victor muſt have the better of the argument, for he may take the weak ſide; but his ſuperiority of parts and knowledge will neceſſarily appear: and he to whom he thus ſhews himſelf ſuperiour is leſſened in the eyes of the young men. You know it was ſaid, 'Mallem cum Scaligero errare quem cum Clavio rectè ſapere.' In the ſame manner take Bentley's and Jaſon de Neres' Comments upon Horace, you will admire Bentley more when wrong, than Jaſon when right."’

We walked with Dr. Adams into the maſter's garden, and into the common room. JOHNSON. (after a reverie of meditation,) ‘"Aye! Here I uſed to play at drafts with Phil. Jones and Fludyer. Jones loved beer, and did not get very forward in the church. Fludyer turned out a ſcoundrel, a Whig, and ſaid he was aſhamed of having been bred at Oxford. He had a living at Putney, and got under the eye of ſome retainers to the court at that time, and ſo became a violent Whig: but he had been a ſcoundrel all along, to be ſure."’ BOSWELL. ‘"Was he a ſcoundrel, Sir, in any other way than being a political ſcoundrel? Did he cheat at drafts?"’ JOHNSON. ‘"Sir, we never played for money."’

He then carried me to viſit Dr. Bentham, Canon of Chriſt-Church, and Divinity Profeſſor, with whoſe learned and lively converſation we were much pleaſed. He gave us an invitation to dinner, which Dr. Johnſon told me was a high honour. ‘"Sir, it is a great thing to dine with the Canons of Chriſt-Church."’ We could not accept his invitation, as we were engaged to dine at Univerſity College. We had an excellent dinner there, with the Maſter and Fellows, it being St. Cuthbert's day, which is kept by them as a feſtival, as he was a ſaint of Durham, with which this College is much connected.

We drank tea with Dr. Horne, Preſident of Magdalen College, now Biſhop of Norwich, of whoſe abilities, in different reſpects, the publick has had [26] eminent proofs, and the eſteem annexed to whoſe character was increaſed by knowing him perſonally. He had talked of publiſhing an edition of Walton's Lives, but had laid aſide that deſign, upon Dr. Johnſon's telling him, from miſtake, that Lord Hailes intended to do it. I had wiſhed to negociate between Lord Hailes and him, that one or other ſhould perform ſo good a work. JOHNSON. ‘"In order to do it well, it will be neceſſary to collect all the editions of Walton's Lives. By way of adapting the book to the taſte of the preſent age, they have, in a later edition, left out a viſion which he relates Dr. Donne had, but it ſhould be reſtored; and there ſhould be a critical catalogue given of the works of the different perſons whoſe lives were written by Walton, and therefore their works muſt be carefully read by the editor."’

We then went to Trinity College, where he introduced me to Mr. Thomas Warton, with whom we paſſed a part of the evening. We talked of biography.—JOHNSON. ‘"It is rarely well executed. They only who live with a man can write his life with any genuine exactneſs and diſcrimination; and few people who have lived with a man know what to remark about him. The chaplain of a late Biſhop, whom I was to aſſiſt in writing ſome memoirs of his Lordſhip, could tell me almoſt nothing."’

I ſaid, Mr. Robert Dodſley's life ſhould be written, as he had been ſo much connected with the wits of his time, and by his literary merit had raiſed him⯑ſelf from the ſtation of a footman. Mr. Warton ſaid, he had publiſhed a little volume under the title of ‘"The Muſe in Livery."’ JOHNSON. ‘"I doubt whether Dodſley's brother would thank a man who ſhould write his life: yet Dodſley himſelf was not unwilling that his original low condition ſhould be recollected. When Lord Lyttelton's 'Dialogues of the Dead' came out, one of which is between Apicius, an ancient epicure, and Darteneuf, a modern epicure, Dodſley ſaid to me, 'I knew Darteneuf well, for I was once his footman."’

Biography led us to ſpeak of Dr. John Campbell, who had written a conſider⯑able part of the ‘"Biographia Britannica."’ Johnſon, though he valued him highly, was of opinion that there was not ſo much in his great work, ‘"A Political Survey of Great-Britain,"’ as the world had been taught to expect; and had ſaid to me, that he believed Campbell's diſappointment, on account of the bad ſucceſs of that work, had killed him. He this evening obſerved of it, ‘"That work was his death."’ Mr. Warton, not adverting to his meaning, anſwered, ‘"I believe ſo; from the great attention he beſtowed on it."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Nay, Sir, he died of want of attention, if he died at all by that book."’

[27] We talked of a work much in vogue at that time, written in a very melliflu⯑ous ſtyle, but which, under pretext of another ſubject, contained much artful infidelity. I ſaid it was not fair to attack us thus unexpectedly; he ſhould have warned us of our danger, before we entered his garden of flowery eloquence, by advertiſing, ‘"Spring-guns and man-traps ſet here."’ The authour had been an Oxonian, and was remembered there for having ‘"turned Papiſt."’ I obſerved, that as he had changed ſeveral times—from the Church of England to the Church of Rome—from the Church of Rome to infidelity—I did not deſpair yet of ſeeing him a methodiſt preacher. JOHNSON. (laughing,) ‘"It is ſaid, that his range has been more extenſive, and that he has once been Mahometan. However, now that he has publiſhed his infidelity, he will probably perſiſt in it."’ BOSWELL. ‘"I am not quite ſure of that, Sir."’

I mentioned Sir Richard Steele having publiſhed his ‘"Chriſtian Hero,"’ with the avowed purpoſe of obliging himſelf to lead a religious life; yet, that his conduct was by no means ſtrictly ſuitable. JOHNSON. ‘"Steele, I believe, practiſed the lighter vices."’

Mr. Warton, being engaged, could not ſup with us at our inn; we had therefore another evening by ourſelves. I aſked Johnſon, whether a man's being forward in making himſelf known to eminent people, and ſeeing as much of life, and getting as much information as he could in every way, was not yet leſſening himſelf by his forwardneſs. JOHNSON. ‘"No, Sir; a man always makes himſelf greater, as he increaſes his knowledge."’

I cenſured ſome ludicrous fantaſtick dialogues between two coach-horſes, and other ſuch ſtuff, which Baretti had lately publiſhed. He joined with me, and ſaid, ‘"Nothing odd will do long. 'Triſtram Shandy' did not laſt."’ I expreſſed a deſire to be acquainted with a lady who had been much talked of, and univerſally celebrated for extraordinary addreſs and inſinuation. JOHNSON. ‘"Never believe extraordinary characters which you hear of people. Depend upon it, Sir, they are exaggerated. You do not ſee one man ſhoot a great deal higher than another."’ I mentioned Mr. Burke. JOHNSON. ‘"Yes; Burke is an extraordinary man. His ſtream of mind is perpetual."’ It is very pleaſing to me to record, that Johnſon's high eſtimation of the talents of this gentleman was uniform from their early acquaintance. Sir Joſhua Reynolds informs me, that when Mr. Burke was firſt elected a member of parliament, and Sir John Hawkins expreſſed a wonder at his attaining a ſeat, Johnſon ſaid, ‘"Now we who know Burke, know, that he will be one of the firſt men in this country."’ And once, when Johnſon was ill, and unable to exert himſelf as [28] much as uſual without fatigue, Mr. Burke having been mentioned, he ſaid, ‘"That fellow calls forth all my powers. Were I to ſee Burke now, it would kill me."’ So much was he accuſtomed to conſider converſation as a conteſt▪ and ſuch was his notion of Burke as an opponent.

Next morning, Thurſday, March 21, we ſet out in a poſt-chaiſe to purſue our ramble. It was a delightful day, and we drove through Blenheim Park. When I looked at the magnificent bridge built by John Duke of Marlborough, over a ſmall rivulet, and recollected the Epigram made upon it—

and ſaw that now, by the genius of Brown, a magnificent body of water was collected, I ſaid, ‘"They have drowned the Epigram."’ I obſerved to him, while in the midſt of the noble ſcene around us, ‘"You and I, Sir, have, I think, ſeen together the extremes of what can be ſeen in Britain;—the wild rough iſland of Mull, and Blenheim Park."’

We dined at an excellent inn at Chapel-houſe, where he expatiated on the felicity of England in its taverns and inns, and triumphed over the French for not having, in any perfection, the tavern life. ‘"There is no private houſe (ſaid he,) in which people can enjoy themſelves ſo well, as at a capital tavern. Let there be ever ſo great plenty of good things, ever ſo much grandeur, ever ſo much elegance, ever ſo much deſire that every body ſhould be eaſy; in the nature of things it cannot be: there muſt always be ſome degree of care and anxiety. The maſter of the houſe is anxious to entertain his gueſts; the gueſts are anxious to be agreeable to him: and no man, but a very impudent dog indeed, can as freely command what is in another man's houſe, as if it were his own. Whereas, at a tavern, there is a general freedom from anxiety. You are ſure you are welcome: and the more noiſe you make, the more trouble you give, the more good things you call for, the welcomer you are. No ſervants will attend you with the alacrity which waiters do, who are incited by the proſpect of an immediate reward, in proportion as they pleaſe. No, Sir; there is nothing which has yet been contrived by man, by which ſo much happineſs is produced as by a good tavern or inn."’ He then repeated, with great emotion, Shenſtone's lines:

In the afternoon, as we were driven rapidly along in the poſt-chaiſe, he ſaid to me, ‘"Life has not many things better than this."’

We ſtopped at Stratford-upon-Avon, and drank tea and coffee; and it pleaſed me to be with him upon the claſſick ground of Shakſpeare's native place.

He ſpoke ſlightingly of Dyer's ‘"Fleece."’—‘"The ſubject, Sir, cannot be made poetical. How can a man write poetically of ſerges and druggets? Yet you will hear many people talk to you gravely of that excellent poem, THE FLEECE."’ Having talked of Dr. Grainger's ‘"Sugar-Cane,"’ I men⯑tioned to him Mr. Langton's having told me, that this poem, when read in manuſcript at Sir Joſhua Reynolds's, had made all the aſſembled wits burſt into a laugh, when, after much blank-verſe pomp, the poet began a new paragraph thus:

And what increaſed the ridicule was, that one of the company, who ſlily over⯑looked the reader, perceived that the word had been originally mice, and had been altered to rats, as more dignified ².

Johnſon ſaid, that Dr. Grainger was an agreeable man; a man who would do any good that was in his power. His tranſlation of Tibullus, he thought, was very well done; but ‘"The Sugar-Cane, a Poem,"’ did not pleaſe him; [30] for, he exclaimed, ‘"What could he make of a ſugar-cane? One might as well write, 'The Parſley-Bed, a Poem;' or, 'The Cabbage-Garden, a Poem."’ BOSWELL. ‘"You muſt then pickle your cabbage with the ſal atticum."’ JOHNSON. ‘"You know there is already 'The Hop-Garden, a Poem:' and, I think, one could ſay a great deal about cabbage. The poem might begin with the advantages of civiliſed ſociety over a rude ſtate, exemplified by the Scotch, who had no cabbages till Oliver Cromwell's ſoldiers introduced them; and one might thus ſhew how arts are propagated by conqueſt, as they were by the Roman arms."’ He ſeemed to be much diverted with the fertility of his own fancy.

I told him, that I heard Dr. Percy was writing the hiſtory of the wolf in Great-Britain. JOHNSON. ‘"The wolf, Sir! why the wolf? Why does he not write of the bear, which we had formerly? Nay, it is ſaid we had the beaver. Or why does he not write of the grey rat, the Hanover rat, as it is called, becauſe it is ſaid to have come into this country about the time that the family of Hanover came? I ſhould like to ſee 'The Hiſtory of the Grey Rat, by Thomas Percy, D. D. Chaplain in Ordinary to his Majeſty,"’ (laughing immoderately). BOSWELL. ‘"I am afraid a court chaplain could not decently write of the grey rat."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Sir, he need not give it the name of the Hanover rat."’ Thus could he indulge a luxuriant ſportive imagination, when talking of a friend whom he loved and eſteemed.

He mentioned to me the ſingular hiſtory of an ingenious acquaintance. ‘"He ſettled as a phyſician in one of the Leeward Iſlands. A man was ſent out to him merely to compound his medicines. This fellow ſet up as a rival to him in his practice of phyſick, and got ſo much the better of him in the opinion of the people of the iſland, that he carried away all the buſineſs; upon which he returned to England, and ſoon after died."’

On Friday, March 22, having ſet out early from Henley, where we had lain the preceding night, we arrived at Birmingham about nine o'clock, and, after breakfaſt, went to call on his old ſchoolfellow Mr. Hector. A very ſtupid maid, who opened the door, told us, that ‘"her maſter was gone out; he was gone to the country; ſhe could not tell when he would return."’ In ſhort, ſhe gave us a miſerable reception; and Johnſon obſerved, ‘"She would have behaved no better to people who wanted him in the way of his profeſ⯑ſion."’ He ſaid to her, ‘"My name is Johnſon; tell him I called. Will you remember the name?"’ She anſwered with ruſtick ſimplicity, in the War⯑wickſhire pronunciation, ‘"I don't underſtand you, Sir."’—‘"Blockhead, (ſaid he,) I'll write."’ I never heard the word blockhead applied to a woman before, [31] though I do not ſee why it ſhould not, when there is evident occaſion for it. He, however, made another attempt to make her underſtand him, and roared loud in her ear, ‘"JOHNSON,"’ and then ſhe catched the ſound.

We then called on Mr. Lloyd, one of the people called Quakers. He too was not at home; but Mrs. Lloyd was, and received us courteouſly, and aſked us to dinner. Johnſon ſaid to me, ‘"After the uncertainty of all human things at Hector's, this invitation came very well."’ We walked about the town, and he was pleaſed to ſee it increaſing.

I talked of legitimation by ſubſequent marriage, which obtained in the Roman law, and ſtill obtains in the law of Scotland. JOHNSON. ‘"I think it a bad thing; becauſe the chaſtity of women being of the utmoſt importance, as all property depends upon it, they who forfeit it ſhould not have any poſſi⯑bility of being reſtored to good character; nor ſhould the children, by an illicit connection, attain the full rights of lawful children, by the poſteriour conſent of the offending parties."’ His opinion upon this ſubject deſerves conſideration. Upon his principle there may, at times, be a hardſhip, and ſeemingly a ſtrange one, upon individuals; but the general good of ſociety is better ſecured. And, after all, it is unreaſonable in an individual to repine that he has not the advantage of a ſtate which is made different from his own, by the ſocial inſtitution under which he is born. A woman does not complain that her brother, who is younger than her, gets their common father's eſtate. Why then ſhould a natural ſon complain that a younger brother, by the ſame parents lawfully begotten, gets it? The operation of law is ſimilar in both caſes. Beſides; an illegitimate ſon, who has a younger legitimate brother by the ſame father and mother, has no ſtronger claim to the father's eſtate, than if that legitimate brother had only the ſame father, from whom alone the eſtate deſcends.

Mr. Lloyd joined us in the ſtreet; and in a little while we met Friend Hector, as Mr. Lloyd called him. It gave me pleaſure to obſerve the joy which Johnſon and he expreſſed on ſeeing each other again. Mr. Lloyd and I left them together, while he obligingly ſhewed me ſome of the manufactures of this very curious aſſemblage of artificers. We all met at dinner at Mr. Lloyd's, where we were entertained with great hoſpitality. Mr. and Mrs. Lloyd had been married the ſame year with their Majeſties, and, like them, had been bleſſed with a numerous family of fine children, their numbers being exactly the ſame. Johnſon ſaid, ‘"Marriage is the beſt ſtate for man in general; and every man is a worſe man, in proportion as he is unfit for the married ſtate."’

[32] I have always loved the ſimplicity of manners, and the ſpiritual-mindedneſs of the Quakers; and talking with Mr. Lloyd, I obſerved, that the eſſential part of religion was piety, a devout intercourſe with the Divinity; and that many a man was a Quaker without knowing it.

As Dr. Johnſon had ſaid to me in the morning, while we walked together, that he liked individuals among the Quakers, but not the ſect; when we were at Mr. Lloyd's I kept clear of introducing any queſtion concerning the pecu⯑liarities of their faith. But I having aſked to look at Baſkerville's edition of ‘"Barclay's Apology,"’ Johnſon laid hold of it; and the chapter on baptiſm happening to open, Johnſon remarked, ‘"He ſays there is neither precept nor practice for baptiſm, in the ſcriptures; that is falſe."’ Here he was the aggreſſor, by no means in a gentle manner; and the good Quakers had the advantage of him; for he had read negligently, and had not obſerved that Barclay ſpeaks of infant baptiſm, which they calmly made him perceive. Mr. Lloyd, how⯑ever, was in as great a miſtake; for when inſiſting that the rite of baptiſm with water was to ceaſe, when the ſpiritual adminiſtration of CHRIST began, he maintained, that John the Baptiſt ſaid, ‘"My baptiſm ſhall decreaſe, but his ſhall increaſe."’ Whereas the words are, ‘"He muſt increaſe, but I muſt decreaſe ²."’

One of them having objected to the ‘"obſervance of days, and months, and years,"’ Johnſon anſwered, ‘"The Church does not ſuperſtitiouſly obſerve days, merely as days, but as memorials of important facts. Chriſtmas might be kept as well upon one day of the year as another: but there ſhould be a ſtated day for commemorating the birth of our Saviour, becauſe there is danger that what may be done on any day, will be neglected."’

Mr. Hector was ſo good as to accompany me to ſee the great works of Mr. Bolton, at a place which he has called Soho, about two miles from Birmingham, which the very ingenious proprietor ſhewed me himſelf to the beſt advantage. I wiſh that Johnſon had been with us; for it was a ſcene which I ſhould have been glad to contemplate by his light. The vaſtneſs and the contrivance of ſome of the machinery would have ‘"matched his mighty mind."’ I ſhall never forget Mr. Bolton's expreſſion to me: ‘"I ſell here, Sir, what all the world deſires to have,—Power."’ He had about ſeven hun⯑dred people at work. I contemplated him as an iron chieftain, and he ſeemed to be a father to his tribe. One of them came to him, complaining grievouſly of his landlord for having diſtrained his goods. ‘"Your landlord is in the [33] right, Smith, (ſaid Bolton). But I'll tell you what: find you a friend who will lay down one half of your rent, and I'll lay down the other half; and you ſhall have your goods again."’

From Mr. Hector I now learnt many particulars of Dr. Johnſon's early life, which, with others that he gave me at different times ſince, have contributed to the formation of this work.

Dr. Johnſon ſaid to me in the morning, ‘"You will ſee, Sir, at Mr. Hector's, his ſiſter, Mrs. Careleſs, a clergyman's widow. She was the firſt woman with whom I was in love. It dropt out of my head imperceptibly; but ſhe and I ſhall always have a kindneſs for each other."’ He laughed at the notion that a man never can be really in love but once, and conſidered it as a mere romantick fancy.

On our return from Mr. Bolton's, Mr. Hector took me to his houſe, where we found Johnſon ſitting placidly at tea, with his firſt love; who, though now advanced in years, was a genteel woman, very agreeable, and well-bred.

Johnſon lamented to Mr. Hector the ſtate of one of their ſchool-fellows, Mr. Charles Congreve, a clergyman, which he thus deſcribed: ‘"He obtained, I believe, conſiderable preferment in Ireland, but now lives in London, quite as a valetudinarian, afraid to go into any houſe but his own. He takes a ſhort airing in his poſt-chaiſe every day. He has an elderly woman, whom he calls couſin, who lives with him, and jogs his elbow, when his glaſs has ſtood too long empty, and encourages him in drinking, in which he is very willing to be encouraged; not that he gets drunk, for he is a very pious man, but he is always muddy. He confeſſes to one bottle of port every day, and he probably drinks more. He is quite unſocial; his converſation is mono⯑ſyllabical: and when, at my laſt viſit, I aſked him what a clock it was, that ſignal of my departure had ſo pleaſing an effect on him, that he ſprung up to look at his watch, like a greyhound bounding at a hare."’ When Johnſon took leave of Mr. Hector, he ſaid, ‘"Don't grow like Congreve; nor let me grow like him, when you are near me."’

When he again talked of Mrs. Careleſs to-night, he ſeemed to have had his affection revived; for he ſaid, ‘"If I had married her, it might have been as happy for me."’ BOSWELL. ‘"Pray, Sir, do you not ſuppoſe that there are fifty women in the world, with any one of whom a man may be as happy, as with any one woman in particular."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Aye, fifty thouſand."’ BOSWELL. ‘"Then, Sir, you are not of opinion with ſome who imagine that certain men and certain women are made for each other; and that they can⯑not [34] be happy if they miſs their counterparts."’ JOHNSON. ‘"To be ſure not, Sir. I believe marriages would in general be as happy, and often more ſo, if they were all made by the Lord Chancellor, upon a due conſideration of characters and circumſtances, without the parties having any choice in the matter."’

I wiſhed to have ſtaid at Birmingham to-night, to have talked more with Mr. Hector; but my friend was impatient to reach his native city: ſo we drove on that ſtage in the dark, and were long penſive and ſilent. When we came within the focus of the Lichfield lamps, ‘"Now (ſaid he,) we are getting out of a ſtate of death."’ We put up at the Three Crowns, not one of the great inns, but a good old faſhioned one, which was kept by Mr. Wilkins, and was the very next houſe to that in which Johnſon was born and brought up, and which was ſtill his own property ³. We had a comfortable ſupper, and got into high ſpirits. I felt all my Toryiſm glow in this old capital of Stafford⯑ſhire. I could have offered incenſe genio loci; and I indulged in libations of that ale, which Bonniface, in ‘"The Beaux Stratagem,"’ recommends with ſuch an eloquent jollity.

Next morning he introduced me to Mrs. Lucy Porter, his ſtep-daughter▪ She was now an old maid, with much ſimplicity of manner. She had never been in London. Her brother, a Captain in the navy, had left her a fortune of ten thouſand pounds; about a third of which ſhe had laid out in building a ſtately houſe, and making a handſome garden, in an elevated ſituation in Lichfield. Johnſon, when here by himſelf, uſed to live at her houſe. She reverenced him, and he had a parental tenderneſs for her.

We then viſited Mr. Peter Garrick, who had that morning received a letter from his brother David, announcing our coming to Lichfield. He was engaged to dinner, but aſked us to tea, and to ſleep at his houſe. Johnſon, however, would not quit his old acquaintance Wilkins, of the Three Crowns. The family likeneſs of the Garricks was very ſtriking; and Johnſon thought that David's vivacity was not ſo peculiar to himſelf as was ſuppoſed. ‘"Sir, (ſaid he,) I don't know but if Peter had cultivated all the arts of gaiety as much as David has done, he might have been as briſk and lively. Depend upon it, Sir, vivacity is much an art, and depends greatly on habit."’ I believe there is a good deal of truth in this, notwithſtanding a ludicrous ſtory told me by a lady abroad, of a heavy German baron, who had lived [35] much with the young Engliſh at Geneva, and was ambitious to be as lively as they; with which view, he, with aſſiduous exertion, was jumping over the tables and chairs in his lodgings; and when the people of the houſe ran in and aſked, with ſurprize, what was the matter, he anſwered, ‘"Sh' apprens t'etre fif."’

We dined at our inn, and had with us a Mr. Jackſon, one of Johnſon's ſchoolfellows, whom he treated with much kindneſs, though he ſeemed to be a low man, dull and untaught. He had a coarſe grey coat, black waiſtcoat, greaſy leather breeches, and a yellow uncurled wig; and his coun⯑tenance had the ruddineſs which betokens one who is in no haſte to ‘"leave his can."’ He drank only ale. He had tried to be a cutler at Birmingham, but had not ſucceeded; and now he lived poorly at home, and had ſome ſcheme of dreſſing leather in a better manner than common; to his indiſtinct account of which, Dr. Johnſon liſtened with patient attention, that he might aſſiſt him with his advice. Here was an inſtance of genuine humanity and real kindneſs in this great man, who has been moſt unjuſtly repreſented as altogether harſh and deſtitute of tenderneſs. A thouſand ſuch inſtances might have been recorded in the courſe of his long life; though, that his temper was warm and haſty, and his manner often rough, cannot be denied.

I ſaw here, for the firſt time, oat ale; and oat cakes not hard as in Scot⯑land, but ſoft like a Yorkſhire cake, were ſerved at breakfaſt. It was pleaſant to me to find, that ‘"Oats,"’ the ‘"food of horſes,"’ were ſo much uſed as the food of the people in Dr. Johnſon's own town. He expatiated in praiſe of Lich⯑field and its inhabitants, who, he ſaid, were ‘"the moſt ſober, decent people in England, the genteeleſt in proportion to their wealth, and ſpoke the pureſt Engliſh."’ I doubted as to the laſt article of this eulogy; for they had ſeveral provincial ſounds; as, there, pronounced like fear, inſtead of like fair; once, pronounced woonſe, inſtead of wunſe, or wonſe. Johnſon himſelf never got entirely free of his provincial accent. Garrick ſometimes uſed to take him off, ſqueezing a lemon into a punch-bowl, with uncouth geſticulations, looking round the company, and calling out, ‘"Who's for poonſh?"’

Very little buſineſs appeared to be going forward in Lichfield. I found however two ſtrange manufactures for ſo inland a place, ſail-cloth and ſtreamers for ſhips; and I obſerved them making ſome ſaddle-cloths, and dreſſing ſheepſkins: but upon the whole, the buſy hand of induſtry ſeemed to be quite ſlackened. ‘"Surely, Sir, (ſaid I,) you are an idle ſet of people."’ ‘"Sir, (ſaid Johnſon,) we are a city of philoſophers: we work with our heads, and make the boobies of Birmingham work for us with their hands."’

[36] There was at this time a company of players performing at Lichfield. The manager, Mr. Stanton, ſent his compliments, and requeſted leave to wait on Dr. Johnſon. Johnſon received him very courteouſly, and he drank a glaſs of wine with us. He was a plain decent well-behaved man, and expreſſed his gratitude to Dr. Johnſon for having once got him permiſſion from Dr. Taylor at Aſhbourne to play there upon moderate terms. Garrick's name was ſoon introduced. JOHNSON. ‘"Garrick's converſation is gay and groteſque. It is a diſh of all ſorts, but all good things. There is no ſolid meat in it: there is a want of ſentiment in it. Not but that he has ſenti⯑ment ſometimes, and ſentiment too very powerful and very pleaſing: but it has not its full proportion in his converſation."’

When we were by ourſelves he told me, ‘"Forty years ago, Sir, I was in love with an actreſs here, Mrs. Emmet, who acted Flora, in 'Hob in the Well."’ What merit this lady had as an actreſs, or what was her figure, or her manner, I have not been informed: but, if we may believe Mr. Garrick, his old maſter's taſte in theatrical merit was by no means refined; he was not an elegans formarum ſpectator. Garrick uſed to tell, that Johnſon ſaid of an actor, who played Sir Harry Wildair at Lichfield, ‘"There is a courtly vivacity about the fellow;"’ when in fact, according to Garrick's account, ‘"he was the moſt vulgar ruffian that ever went upon boards."’

We had promiſed Mr. Stanton to be at his theatre on Monday. Dr. Johnſon jocularly propoſed me to write a Prologue for the occaſion: ‘"A Prologue, by James Boſwell, Eſq. from the Hebrides."’ I was really inclined to take the hint. Methought, ‘"Prologue, ſpoken before Dr. Samuel Johnſon, at Lichfield, 1776;"’ would have ſounded as well as, ‘"Prologue, ſpoken before the Duke of York, at Oxford,"’ in Charles the Second's time. Much might have been ſaid of what Lichfield had done for Shakſpeare, by producing Johnſon and Garrick. But I found he was averſe to it.

We went and viewed the muſeum of Mr. Richard Green, apothecary here, who told me he was proud of being a relation of Dr. Johnſon's. It was, truly, a wonderful collection, both of antiquities and natural curioſities, and ingenious works of art. He had all the articles accurately arranged, with their names upon labels, printed at his own little preſs; and on the ſtaircaſe leading to it was a board, with the names of contributors marked in gold letters. A printed catalogue of the collection was to be had at a book⯑ſeller's. Johnſon expreſſed his admiration of the activity and diligence and good fortune of Mr. Green, in getting together, in his ſituation, ſo great a variety of things; and Mr. Green told me, that Johnſon once ſaid to him, ‘"Sir, [37] I ſhould as ſoon have thought of building a man of war, as of collecting ſuch a muſeum."’ Mr. Green's obliging alacrity in ſhewing it was very pleaſing. His engraved portrait, with which he has favoured me, has a motto truly characteriſtical of his diſpoſition, ‘"Nemo ſibi vivat."’

A phyſician being mentioned who had loſt his practice, becauſe his whimſi⯑cally changing his religion had made people diſtruſtful of him, I maintained that this was unreaſonable, as religion is unconnected with medical ſkill. JOHNSON. ‘"Sir, it is not unreaſonable; for when people ſee a man abſurd in what they underſtand, they may conclude the ſame of him in what they do not underſtand. If a phyſician were to take to eating of horſe-fleſh, nobody would employ him; though one may eat horſe-fleſh, and be a very ſkilful phyſician. If a man were educated in an abſurd religion, his continuing to profeſs it would not hurt him, though his changing to it would."’

We drank tea and coffee at Mr. Peter Garrick's, where was Mrs. Aſton, one of the maiden ſiſters of Mrs. Walmſley, wife of Johnſon's firſt friend, and ſiſter alſo of the lady of whom Johnſon uſed to ſpeak with the warmeſt admi⯑ration, by the name of Molly Aſton, who was afterwards married to Captain Brodie of the navy.

On Sunday, March 24, we breakfaſted with Mrs. Cobb, a widow lady, who lived in an agreeable ſequeſtered place cloſe by the town, called the Friary, it having been formerly a religious houſe. She and her niece, Miſs Adey, were great admirers of Dr. Johnſon; and he behaved to them with a kindneſs and eaſy pleaſantry, ſuch as we ſee between old and intimate acquaintance. He accompanied Mrs. Cobb to St. Mary's church, and I went to the cathe⯑dral, where I was very much delighted with the muſick, finding it to be peculiarly ſolemn, and accordant with the words of the ſervice.

We dined at Mr. Peter Garrick's, who was in a very lively humour, and verified Johnſon's ſaying, that if he had cultivated gaiety as much as his brother David, he might have equally excelled in it. He was to-day quite a London narrator, telling us a variety of anecdotes with that earneſtneſs and attempt at mimickry which we uſually find in the wits of the metropolis. Dr. Johnſon went with me to the cathedral in the afternoon. It was grand and pleaſing to contemplate this illuſtrious writer, now full of fame, worſhipping in ‘"the ſolemn temple"’ of his native city.

I returned to tea and coffee at Mr. Peter Garrick's, and then found Dr. Johnſon at the Reverend Mr. Seward's, Canon Reſidentiary, who inhabited the Biſhop's palace, in which Mr. Walmſley lived, and which had been the ſcene of many happy hours in Johnſon's early life. Mr. Seward had, with [38] eccleſiaſtical hoſpitality and politeneſs, aſked me in the morning, merely as a ſtranger, to dine with him; and in the afternoon, when I was introduced to him, he aſked Dr. Johnſon and me to ſpend the evening and ſup with him. He was a genteel well-bred dignified clergyman, had travelled with Lord Charles Fitzroy, uncle of the preſent Duke of Grafton, who died when abroad, and he had lived much in the great world. He was an ingenious and literary man, had publiſhed an edition of Beaumont and Fletcher, and written verſes in Dodſley's collection. His lady was the daughter of Mr. Hunter, Johnſon's firſt ſchoolmaſter. And now, for the firſt time, I had the pleaſure of ſeeing his celebrated daughter, Miſs Anna Seward, to whom I have ſince been indebted for many civilities, as well as ſome obliging communications con⯑cerning Johnſon.

Mr. Seward mentioned to us the obſervations which he had made upon the ſtrata of earth in volcanos, from which it appeared, that they were ſo very different in depth in different periods, that no calculation whatever could be made as to the time required for their formation. This fully refuted an anti⯑moſaical remark introduced into Captain Brydone's entertaining Tour, I hope heedleſsly, from a kind of vanity which is too common in thoſe who have not ſufficiently ſtudied the moſt important of all ſubjects. Dr. Johnſon, indeed, had ſaid before, independent of this obſervation, ‘"Shall all the accumulated evidence of the hiſtory of the world;—ſhall the authority of what is unqueſ⯑tionably the moſt ancient writing, be overturned by an uncertain remark ſuch as this?"’

On Monday, March 25, we breakfaſted at Mrs. Lucy Porter's. He had ſent an expreſs to Dr. Taylor's, acquainting him of our being at Lichfield, and Taylor had returned an anſwer that his poſt-chaiſe ſhould come for us this day. While we ſat at breakfaſt, Dr. Johnſon received a letter by the poſt, which ſeemed to agitate him very much. When he had read it, he exclaimed, ‘"One of the moſt dreadful things that has happened in my time."’ The phraſe my time, like the word age, is uſually underſtood to refer to an event of a publick or general nature. I imagined ſomething like an aſſaſſination of the King—like a gunpowder plot carried into execution—or like another fire of London. When aſked, ‘"What is it, Sir?"’ he anſwered, ‘"Mr. Thrale has loſt his only ſon!"’ This was, no doubt, a very great affliction to Mr. and Mrs. Thrale, which their friends would conſider accordingly; but from the manner in which the intelligence of it was communicated by Johnſon, it appeared for the moment to be comparatively ſmall. I however, ſoon felt a ſincere concern, and was curious to obſerve how Dr. Johnſon would [39] be affected. He ſaid, ‘"This is a total extinction to their family, as much as if they were ſold into captivity."’ Upon my mentioning that Mr. Thrale had daughters, who might inherit his wealth;—‘"Daughters, (ſaid Johnſon, warmly,) he'll no more value his daughters than—"’ I was going to ſpeak.—‘"Sir, (ſaid he,) don't you know how you yourſelf think? Sir, he wiſhes to propagate his name."’ In ſhort, I ſaw male ſucceſſion ſtrong in his mind, even where there was no name, no family of any long ſtanding. I ſaid, it was lucky he was not preſent when this misfortune happened. JOHNSON. ‘"It is lucky for me. People in diſtreſs never think that you feel enough."’ BOSWELL. ‘"And, Sir, they will have the hope of ſeeing you, which will be a relief in the mean time; and when you get to them, the pain will be ſo far abated, that they will be capable of being conſoled by you, which, in the firſt violence of it, I believe, would not be the caſe."’ JOHNSON. ‘"No, Sir; violent pain of mind, as violent pain of body, muſt be ſeverely felt."’ BOSWELL. ‘"I own, Sir, I have not ſo much feeling for the diſtreſs of others, as ſome people have, or pretend to have: but I know this, that I would do all in my power to relieve them."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Sir, it is affectation to pre⯑tend to feel the diſtreſs of others, as much as they do themſelves. It is equally ſo, as if one ſhould pretend to feel as much pain while a friend's leg is cutting off, as he does. No, Sir; you have expreſſed the rational and juſt nature of ſympathy. I would have gone to the extremity of the earth to have preſerved this boy."’

He was ſoon quite calm. The letter was from Mr. Thrale's clerk, and concluded, ‘"I need not ſay how much they wiſh to ſee you in London."’ He ſaid, ‘"We ſhall haſten back from Taylor's."’

Mrs. Lucy Porter and ſome other ladies of the place talked a great deal of him when he was out of the room, not only with veneration but affection. It pleaſed me to find that he was ſo much beloved in his native city.

Mrs. Aſton, whom I had ſeen the preceding night, and her ſiſter, Mrs. Gaſtrel, a widow lady, had each a houſe and garden, and pleaſure ground, prettily ſituated upon Stowhill, a gentle eminence adjoining to Lichfield. Johnſon walked away to dinner there, leaving me by myſelf without any apology; I wondered at this want of that facility of manners, from which a man has no difficulty in carrying a friend to a houſe where he is intimate; I felt it very unpleaſant to be thus left in ſolitude in a country town, where I was an entire ſtranger, and began to think myſelf unkindly deſerted; but I was ſoon relieved, and convinced that my friend inſtead of being deficient in delicacy, had conducted the matter with perfect propriety, for I received the following [40] note in his hand-writing: ‘"Mrs. Gaſtrel, at the lower houſe on Stowhill, deſires Mr. Boſwell's company to dinner at two."’ I accepted of the invitation, and had here another proof how amiable his character was in the opinion of thoſe who knew him beſt. I was not informed, till afterwards, that Mrs. Gaſtrel's huſband was the clergyman who, while he lived at Stratford upon Avon, where he was proprietor of Shakſpeare's garden, with Gothick barbarity cut down his mulberry-tree, and, as Dr. Johnſon told me, did it to vex his neighbours. His lady, I have reaſon to believe, participated in the guilt of what the enthuſiaſts for our immortal bard deem almoſt a ſpecies of ſacrilege.

After dinner Dr. Johnſon wrote a letter to Mrs. Thrale, on the death of her ſon. I ſaid it would be very diſtreſſing to Thrale, but ſhe would ſoon forget it, as ſhe had ſo many things to think of. JOHNSON. ‘"No, Sir, Thrale will forget it firſt. She has many things that ſhe may think of. He has many things that he muſt think of."’ This was a very juſt remark upon the different effect of thoſe light purſuits which occupy a vacant and eaſy mind, and thoſe ſerious engagements which arreſt attention, and keep us from brooding over grief.

He obſerved of Lord Bute, ‘"It was ſaid of Auguſtus, that it would have been better for Rome that he had never been born, or had never died. So it would have been better for this nation if Lord Bute had never been miniſter, or had never reſigned."’

In the evening we went to the Town-hall, which was converted into a temporary theatre, and ſaw ‘"Theodoſius,"’ with ‘"The Stratford Jubilee."’ I was happy to ſee Dr. Johnſon ſitting in a conſpicuous part of the pit, and receiving affectionate homage from all his acquaintance. We were quite gay and merry. I afterwards mentioned to him that I condemned myſelf for being ſo, when poor Mr. and Mrs. Thrale were in ſuch diſtreſs. JOHNSON. ‘"You are wrong, Sir; twenty years hence Mr. and Mrs. Thrale will not ſuffer much pain from the death of their ſon. Now, Sir, you are to conſider that diſtance of place, as well as diſtance of time, operates upon the human feelings. I would not have you be gay in the preſence of the diſtreſſed, becauſe it would ſhock them; but you may be gay at a diſtance. Pain for the loſs of a friend, or of a relation whom we love, is occaſioned by the want which we feel. In time the vacuity is filled with ſomething elſe; or, ſometimes the vacuity cloſes up of itſelf."’

Mr. Seward and Mr. Pearſon, another clergyman here, ſupt with us at our inn, and after they left us, we ſat up late as we uſed to do in London.

[41] Here I ſhall record ſome fragments of my friend's converſation during this jaunt.

‘"Marriage, Sir, is much more neceſſary to a man than to a woman; for he is much leſs able to ſupply himſelf with domeſtick comforts. You will recollect my ſaying to ſome ladies the other day, that I had often wondered why young women ſhould marry, as they have ſo much more freedom, and ſo much more attention paid to them while unmarried, than when married. I indeed did not mention the ſtrong reaſon for their marrying—the mechanical reaſon."’ BOSWELL. ‘"Why that is a ſtrong one. But does not imagination make it ſeem much more important than it is in reality? Is it not, to a cer⯑tain degree, a deluſion in us as well as in women?"’ JOHNSON. ‘"Why yes, Sir; but it is a deluſion that is always beginning again."’ BOSWELL. ‘"I don't know but there is upon the whole more miſery than happineſs produced by that paſſion."’ JOHNSON. ‘"I don't think ſo, Sir."’

‘"Never ſpeak of a man in his own preſence. It is always indelicate, and may be offenſive."’

‘"Queſtioning is not the mode of converſation among gentlemen. It is aſſuming a ſuperiority, and it is particularly wrong to queſtion a man con⯑cerning himſelf. There may be parts of his former life which he may not wiſh to be made known to other perſons, or even brought to his own re⯑collection."’

‘"A man ſhould be careful never to tell tales of himſelf to his own diſ⯑advantage. People may be amuſed and laugh at the time, but they will be remembered, and brought out againſt him upon ſome ſubſequent occaſion."’

‘"Much may be done if a man puts his whole mind to a particular object. By doing ſo, Norton has made himſelf the great lawyer that he is allowed to be."’

I mentioned an acquaintance of mine, a ſectary, who was a very religious man, who not only attended regularly on publick worſhip with thoſe of his communion, but made a particular ſtudy of the Scriptures, and even wrote a commentary on ſome parts of them, yet was known to be very licentious in indulging himſelf with women, maintaining that men are to be ſaved by faith alone, and that the Chriſtian religion had not preſcribed any fixed rule for the intercourſe between the ſexes. JOHNSON. ‘"Sir, there is no truſting to that crazy piety."’

I Obſerved that it was ſtrange how well Scotchmen were known to one another in their own country, though born in very diſtant counties; for we do not find that the gentlemen of neighbouring counties in England are [42] mutually known to each other. Johnſon, with his uſual acuteneſs, at once ſaw and explained the reaſon of this, ‘"Why, Sir, you have Edinburgh, where the gentlemen from all your counties meet, and which is not ſo large but that they are all known. There is no ſuch common place of collection in England, except London, where from its great ſize and diffuſion, many of thoſe who reſide in contiguous counties of England may long remain unknown to each other."’

On Tueſday, March 26, there came for us an equipage properly ſuited to a wealthy well-beneficed clergyman—Dr. Taylor's large, roomy poſt-chaiſe, drawn by four ſtout plump horſes, and driven by two ſteady jolly poſtillions, which conveyed us to Aſhbourne, where I found my friend's ſchoolfellow living upon an eſtabliſhment perfectly correſponding with his ſubſtantial creditable equipage. His houſe, garden, pleaſure-grounds, table, in ſhort every thing good, and no ſcantineſs appearing. Every man ſhould form ſuch a plan of living as he can execute completely. Let him not draw an outline wider than he can fill up. I have ſeen many ſkeletons of ſhew and magnificence which excite at once ridicule and pity. Dr. Taylor had a good eſtate of his own, and good preferment in the church, being a prebendary of Weſtminſter, and rector of Boſworth. He was a diligent juſtice of the peace, and preſided over the town of Aſhbourne, to the inhabitants of which I was told he was very liberal; and as a proof of this it was mentioned to me, he had the preceding winter, diſtributed two hundred pounds among ſuch of them as ſtood in need of his aſſiſtance. He had conſequently a conſiderable political intereſt in the county of Derby, which he employed to ſupport the Devonſhire family; for though the ſchoolfellow and friend of Johnſon, he was a Whig. I could not perceive in his character much congeniality of any ſort with that of Johnſon, who, however, ſaid to me, ‘"Sir, he has a very ſtrong under⯑ſtanding."’ His ſize and figure, and countenance, and manner, were that of a hearty Engliſh 'Squire, with the parſon ſuper-induced; and I took particular notice of his upper ſervant, Mr. Peters, a decent grave man, in purple clothes, and a large white wig, like the butler or major domo of a Biſhop.

Dr. Johnſon and Dr. Taylor met with great cordiality; and Johnſon ſoon gave him the ſame ſad account of their ſchoolfellow, Congreve, that he had given to Mr. Hector; adding a remark of ſuch moment to the rational conduct of a man in the decline of life, that it deſerves to be imprinted upon every mind: ‘"There is nothing againſt which an old man ſhould be ſo much upon his guard as putting himſelf to nurſe."’ Innumerable have been the melancholy inſtances of men once diſtinguiſhed for firmneſs, reſolution, [43] and ſpirit, who in their latter days have been governed like children, by inte⯑reſted female artifice.

Dr. Taylor commended a phyſician who was known to him and Dr. Johnſon, and ſaid, ‘"I fight many battles for him, as many people in the country diſlike him."’ JOHNSON. ‘"But you ſhould conſider, Sir, that by every one of your victories he is a loſer; for, every man of whom you get the better, will be very angry, and will reſolve not to employ him; whereas if people get the better of you in argument about him, they'll think, 'We'll ſend for Dr. ****** nevertheleſs."’ This was an obſervation deep and ſure in human nature.

Next day we talked of a book in which an eminent judge was arraigned before the bar of the publick, as having pronounced an unjuſt deciſion in a great cauſe. Dr. Johnſon maintained that this publication would not give any uneaſineſs to the Judge. ‘"For (ſaid he,) either he acted honeſtly, or he meant to do injuſtice. If he acted honeſtly, his own conſciouſneſs will protect him; if he meant to do injuſtice, he will be glad to ſee the man who attacks him, ſo much vexed."’

Next day, as Dr. Johnſon had acquainted Dr. Taylor of the reaſon for his returning ſpeedily to London, it was reſolved that we ſhould ſet out after dinner. A few of Dr. Taylor's neighbours were his gueſts that day.

Dr. Johnſon talked with approbation of one who had attained to the ſtate of the philoſophical wiſe man, that is, to have no want of any thing. ‘"Then, Sir, (ſaid I,) the ſavage is a wiſe man."’ ‘"Sir, (ſaid he,) I do not mean ſimply being without,—but not having a want."’ I maintained, againſt this propoſition, that it was better to have fine clothes, for inſtance, than not to feel the want of them." JOHNSON. ‘"No, Sir; fine clothes are good only as they ſupply the want of other means of procuring reſpect. Was Charles the Twelfth, think you, leſs reſpected for his coarſe blue coat and black ſtock? And you find the King of Pruſſia dreſſes plain, becauſe the dignity of his character is ſufficient."’ I here brought myſelf into a ſcrape, for I heedleſsly ſaid, ‘"Would not you, Sir, be the better for velvet and embroidery?"’ JOHNSON. ‘"Sir, you put an end to all argument when you introduce your opponent himſelf. Have you no better manners? There is your want."’ I apologiſed by ſaying, I had mentioned him as an inſtance of one who wanted as little as any man in the world, and yet, perhaps, might receive ſome additional luſtre from dreſs.

Having left Aſhbourne in the evening, we ſtopped to change horſes at Derby, and availed ourſelves of a moment to enjoy the converſation of my [44] countryman, Dr. Butter, then phyſician there. He was in great indignation becauſe Lord Mountſtuart's bill for a Scotch militia had been loſt. Dr. Johnſon was as violent againſt it. ‘"I am glad, (ſaid he,) that Parliament has had the ſpirit to throw it out. You wanted to take advantage of the timidity of our ſcoundrels ⁴,"’ (meaning, I ſuppoſe, the miniſtry). It may be obſerved, that he uſed the epithet ſcoundrel very commonly, not quite in the ſenſe in which it is generally underſtood, but as a ſtrong term of diſappro⯑bation; as when he abruptly anſwered Mrs. Thrale, who had aſked him how he did, ‘"Ready to become a ſcoundrel, Madam; with a little more ſpoiling you will, I think, make me a complete raſcal ⁵:"’—he meant, eaſy to become a capricious and ſelf-indulgent valetudinarian; a character for which I have heard him expreſs great diſguſt.

Johnſon had with him upon this jaunt, ‘"Il Palermino d'Inghilterra,"’ a romance praiſed by Cervantes; but did not like it much. He ſaid, he read it for the language, by way of preparation for his Italian expedition.—We lay this night at Loughborough.

On Thurſday, March 28, we purſued our journey. I mentioned that old Mr. Sheridan complained of the ingratitude of Mr. Wedderburne and General Fraſer, who had been much obliged to him when they were young Scotch⯑men entering upon life in England. JOHNSON. ‘"Why, Sir, a man is very apt to complain of the ingratitude of thoſe who have riſen far above him. A man when he gets into a higher ſphere, into other habits of life, cannot keep up all his former connections. Then, Sir, thoſe who knew him formerly upon a level with themſelves, may think that they ought ſtill to be treated as on a level, which cannot be; and an acquaintance in a former ſituation may bring out things which it would be very diſagreeable to have mentioned before higher company, though, perhaps, every body knows of them."’ He placed this ſubject in a new light to me, and ſhewed that a man, who has riſen in the world, muſt not be condemned too harſhly, for being diſtant to former acquaintance, even though he may have been much obliged to them. It is, no doubt, to be wiſhed that a proper degree of attention ſhould be ſhewn by great men to their early friends. But if either from obtuſe inſenſibility to difference of ſituation, or preſumptuous forwardneſs, which will not ſubmit even to an exteriour obſervance of it, the dignity of high place cannot be preſerved, when they are admitted into the company of thoſe raiſed above the ſtate in which they once were, encroachment muſt be repelled, and [45] the kinder feelings ſacrificed. To one of the very fortunate perſons whom I have mentioned, namely, Mr. Wedderburne, now Lord Loughborough, I muſt do the juſtice to relate, that I have been aſſured by another early acquaintance of his, old Mr. Macklin, who aſſiſted him in improving his pronunciation, that he had found him very grateful. Macklin, I ſuppoſe, had not preſſed upon his elevation with ſo much eagerneſs as the gentleman who complained of him. Dr. Johnſon's remark as to the jealouſy entertained of our friends who riſe far above us, is certainly very juſt. By this was withered the early friendſhip between Charles Townſhend and Akenſide; and many ſimilar inſtances might be adduced.

He ſaid, ‘"It is commonly a weak man who marries for love."’ We then talked of marrying women of fortune; and I mentioned a common remark, that a man may be, upon the whole, richer by marrying a woman with a very ſmall portion, becauſe a woman of fortune will be proportionally expen⯑ſive; whereas a woman who brings none will be very moderate in expences. JOHNSON. ‘"Depend upon it, Sir, this is not true. A woman of fortune being uſed to the handling of money, ſpends it judiciouſly: but a woman who gets the command of money for the firſt time upon her marriage, has ſuch a guſt in ſpending it, that ſhe throws it away with great profuſion."’

He praiſed the ladies of the preſent age, inſiſting that they were more faithful to their huſbands, and more virtuous in every reſpect, than in former times, becauſe their underſtandings were better cultivated. It was an undoubted proof of his good ſenſe and good diſpoſition, that he was never querulous, never prone to inveigh againſt the preſent times, as is ſo common when ſuper⯑ficial minds are on the fret. On the contrary, he was willing to ſpeak favour⯑ably of his own age; and, indeed, maintained its ſuperiority in every reſpect, except in its reverence for government; the relaxation of which he imputed, as its grand cauſe, to the ſhock which our monarchy received at the Revolution, though neceſſary; and ſecondly, to the timid conceſſions made to faction by ſucceſſive adminiſtrations in the reign of his preſent Majeſty. I am happy to think, that he lived to ſee the Crown at laſt recover its juſt influence.

At Leiceſter we read in the newſpapers that Dr. James was dead. I thought that the death of an old ſchool-fellow, and one with whom he had lived a good deal in London, would have affected my fellow-traveller much: but he only ſaid, ‘"Ah! poor Jamy."’ Afterwards, however, when we were in the chaiſe, he ſaid, with more tenderneſs, ‘"Since I ſet out on this jaunt, I have loſt an old friend and a young one;—Dr. James, and poor Harry,"’ (meaning Mr. Thrale's ſon).

[46] Having lain at St. Alban's on Thurſday, March 28, we breakfaſted the next morning at Barnet. I expreſſed to him a weakneſs of mind which I could not help;—an uneaſy apprehenſion that my wife-and children, who were at a great diſtance from me, might, perhaps, be ill. ‘"Sir, (ſaid he,) conſider how fooliſh you ſhould think it in them to be apprehenſive that you are ill."’ This ſudden turn relieved me for the moment; but I afterwards perceived it to be an ingenious fallacy. I might, to be ſure, be ſatisfied that they had no reaſon to be apprehenſive about me, becauſe I knew that I myſelf was well: but we might have a mutual anxiety, without the charge of folly; becauſe each was, in ſome degree, uncertain as to the condition of the other.

I enjoyed the luxury of our approach to London, that metropolis which we both loved ſo much, for the high and varied intellectual pleaſure which it furniſhes. I experienced immediate happineſs while whirled along with ſuch a companion, and ſaid to him, ‘"Sir, you obſerved one day at General Oglethorpe's, that a man is never happy for the preſent, but when he is drunk. Will you not add,—or when driving rapidly in a poſt-chaiſe?"’ JOHNSON. ‘"No, Sir, you are driving rapidly from ſomething, or to ſomething."’

Talking of melancholy, he ſaid, ‘"Some men, and very thinking men too, have not thoſe vexing thoughts. Sir Joſhua Reynolds is the ſame all the year round. Beauclerk, except when ill and in pain, is the ſame. But I believe moſt men have them in the degree in which they are capable of having them. If I were in the country, and were diſtreſſed by that malady, I would force myſelf to take a book; and every time I did it I ſhould find it the eaſier. Melancholy, indeed, ſhould be diverted by every means but drinking."’

We ſtopped at Meſſieurs Dillys, bookſellers in the Poultry; from whence he hurried away, in a hackney coach, to Mr. Thrale's in the Borough. I called at his houſe in the evening, having promiſed to acquaint Mrs. Williams of his ſafe return; when, to my ſurprize, I found him ſitting with her at tea, and, as I thought, not in a very good humour: for, it ſeems, when he got to Mr. Thrale's, he found the coach was at the door waiting to carry Mrs. and Miſs Thrale, and Signor Baretti their Italian maſter, to Bath. This was not ſhewing the attention which might have been expected to the ‘"Guide, Philoſopher, and Friend,"’ the Imlack who had haſtened from the country to conſole a diſtreſſed mother, who he underſtood was very anxious for his return. They had, I found, without ceremony, proceeded on their intended journey. I was glad to underſtand from him that it was ſtill reſolved that his tour to Italy with Mr. and Mrs. Thrale ſhould take place, of which he had entertained ſome doubt, on account of the loſs which they had ſuffered; and [47] his doubts afterwards proved to be well-founded. He obſerved, indeed very juſtly, that ‘"their loſs was an additional reaſon for their going abroad; and if it had not been fixed that he ſhould have been one of the party, he would force them out; but he would not adviſe them unleſs his advice was aſked, leſt they might ſuſpect that he recommended what he wiſhed on his own account."’ I was not pleaſed that his intimacy with Mr. Thrale's family, though it no doubt contributed much to his comfort and enjoyment, was not without ſome degree of reſtraint. Not, as has been groſsly ſuggeſted, that it was required of him as a taſk to talk for the entertainment of them and their company; but that he was not quite at his eaſe; which, however, might partly be owing to his own honeſt pride—that dignity of mind which is always jealous of appearing too compliant.

On Sunday, March 31, I called on him, and ſhewed him as a curioſity which I had diſcovered, his ‘"Tranſlation of Lobo's Account of Abyſſinia,"’ which Sir John Pringle had lent me, it being then little known as one of his works. He ſaid, ‘"Take no notice of it, or don't talk of it."’ He ſeemed to think it beneath him, though done at ſix-and-twenty. I ſaid to him, ‘"Your ſtyle, Sir, is much improved ſince you tranſlated this."’ He anſwered with a ſort of triumphant ſmile, ‘"Sir, I hope it is."’

On Wedneſday, April 3, in the forenoon, I found him very buſy putting his books in order, and as they were generally very old ones, clouds of duſt were flying around him. He had on a pair of large gloves, ſuch as hedgers uſe. His preſent appearance put me in mind of my uncle, Dr. Boſwell's deſcription of him, ‘"A robuſt genius, born to grapple with whole libraries."’

I gave him an account of a converſation which had paſſed between me and Captain Cook, the day before at dinner at Sir John Pringle's, and he was much pleaſed with the conſcientious accuracy of that celebrated circum⯑navigator, who ſet me right as to many of the exaggerated accounts given by Dr. Hawkeſworth of his Voyages. I told him that while I was with the Captain, I catched the enthuſiaſm of curioſity and adventure, and felt a ſtrong inclination to go with him on his next voyage. JOHNSON. ‘"Why, Sir, a man does ſeel ſo, till he conſiders how very little he can learn from ſuch voyages."’ BOSWELL. ‘"But one is carried away with the general grand and indiſtinct notion of A VOYAGE ROUND THE WORLD."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Yes, Sir, but a man is to guard himſelf againſt taking a thing in general."’ I ſaid I was certain that a great part of what we are told by the travellers to the South Sea muſt be conjecture, becauſe they had not enough of the [48] language of thoſe countries to underſtand ſo much as they have related. Objects falling under the obſervation of the ſenſes might be clearly known; but every thing intellectual, every thing abſtract—politicks, morals, and religion, muſt be darkly gueſſed. Dr. Johnſon was of the ſame opinion. He upon another occaſion, when a friend mentioned to him ſeveral extra⯑ordinary facts, as communicated to him by the circumnavigators, ſlily obſerved, ‘"Sir, I never before knew how much I was reſpected by theſe gentlemen; they told me none of theſe things."’

He had been in company with Omai, a native of one of the South Sea iſlands, after he had been ſome time in this country. He was ſtruck with the elegance of his behaviour, and accounted for it thus: ‘"Sir, he had paſſed his time, while in England, only in the beſt company; ſo that all that he had acquired of our manners was genteel. As a proof of this, Sir, Lord Mulgrave and he dined one day at Streatham; they ſat with their backs to the light fronting me, ſo that I could not ſee diſtinctly; and there was ſo little of the ſavage in Omai, that I was afraid to ſpeak to either, left I ſhould miſtake one for the other."’

We agreed to dine to-day at the Mitre-tavern, after the riſing of the Houſe of Lords, where a branch of the litigation concerning the Douglas eſtate, in which I was one of the counſel, was to come on. I brought with me Mr. Murray, Solicitor-General of Scotland, now one of the Judges of the Court of Seſſion, with the title of Lord Henderland. I mentioned Mr. Solicitor's relation, Lord Charles Hay, with whom I knew Dr. Johnſon had been acquainted. JOHNSON. ‘"I wrote ſomething for Lord Charles; and I thought he had nothing to fear from a court-martial. I ſuffered a great loſs when he died; he was a mighty pleaſing man in converſation, and a reading man. The character of a ſoldier is high. They who ſtand forth the foremoſt in danger, for the community, have the reſpect of mankind. An officer is much more reſpected than any other man who has as little money. In a commercial country money will always purchaſe reſpect. But you find, an officer, who has properly ſpeaking, no money, is every where well received and treated with attention. The character of a ſoldier always ſtands him in ſtead."’ BOSWELL. ‘"Yet, Sir, I think that common ſoldiers are worſe thought of than other men in the ſame rank of life; ſuch as labourers."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Why, Sir, a common ſoldier is uſually a very groſs man, and any quality which procures reſpect may be overwhelmed by groſſneſs. A man of learning may be ſo vicious or ſo ridiculous that you cannot reſpect him. A common ſoldier too, generally eats more than he can pay for. But when a common ſoldier is civil in his quarters, his red coat procures him a degree of reſpect."’

[49] The peculiar reſpect paid to the military character in France was mentioned BOSWELL. ‘"I ſhould think that where military men are ſo numerous, they would be leſs valued as not being rare."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Nay, Sir, wherever a particular character or profeſſion is high in the eſtimation of a people, thoſe who are of it will be valued above other men. We value an Engliſhman highly in this country, and yet Engliſhmen are not rare in it."’

Mr. Murray praiſed the ancient philoſophers for the candour and good humour with which thoſe of different ſects diſputed with each other. JOHNSON. ‘"Sir, they diſputed with good humour, becauſe they were not in earneſt as to religion. Had the ancients been ſerious in their belief, we ſhould not have had their Gods exhibited in the manner we find them repreſented in the Poets. The people would not have ſuffered it. They diſputed with good humour upon their fanciful theories, becauſe they were not intereſted in the truth of them. When a man has nothing to loſe, he may be in good humour with his opponent. Accordingly you ſee in Lucian, the Epicurean, who argues only negatively, keeps his temper; the Stoick, who has ſomething poſitive to preſerve, grows angry. Being angry with one who controverts an opinion which you value, is a neceſſary conſequence of the uneaſineſs which you feel. Every man who attacks my belief, diminiſhes in ſome degree my confidence in it, and therefore makes me uneaſy, and I am angry with him who makes me uneaſy. Thoſe only who believed in Revelation have been angry at having their faith called in queſtion; becauſe they only had ſome⯑thing upon which they could reſt as matter of fact."’ MURRAY. ‘"It ſeems to me that we are not angry at a man for controverting an opinion which we believe and value; we rather pity him."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Why, Sir; to be ſure when you wiſh a man to have that belief which you think is of infinite advan⯑tage, you wiſh well to him; but your primary conſideration is your own quiet. If a madman were to come into this room with a ſtick in his hand, no doubt we ſhould pity the ſtate of his mind; but our primary conſideration would be to take care of ourſelves. We ſhould knock him down firſt, and pity him afterwards. No, Sir; every man will diſpute with great good humour upon a ſubject in which he is not intereſted. I will diſpute very calmly upon the probability of another man's ſon being hanged, but if a man zealouſly enforces the probability that my own ſon will be hanged, I ſhall certainly not be in very good humour with him."’ I added this illuſtration, ‘"If a man endeavours to convince me that my wife, whom I love very much, and in whom I have great confidence, is a diſagreeable woman, and is even unfaithful to me, I ſhall be very angry, for he is putting me in fear of being unhappy."’ MURRAY. ‘"But, Sir, truth will always bear an [50] examination."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Yes, Sir, but it is painful to be forced to defend it. Conſider, Sir, how ſhould you like, though conſcious of your innocence, to be tried before a jury for a capital crime, once a week."’

We talked of education at great ſchools, the advantages and diſadvan⯑tages of which Johnſon diſplayed in a luminous manner; but his arguments preponderated ſo much in favour of the benefit which a boy of good parts might receive at one of them, that I have reaſon to believe Mr. Murray was very much influenced by what he had heard to-day, in his determination to ſend his own ſon to Weſtminſter ſchool.

I introduced the topick, which is often ignorantly urged, that the Univerſities of England are too rich, ſo that learning does not flouriſh in them as it would do, if thoſe who teach had ſmaller ſalaries, and depended on their aſſiduity for a great part of their income. JOHNSON. ‘"Sir, the very reverſe of this is the truth; the Engliſh Univerſities are not rich enough. Our fellowſhips are only ſufficient to ſupport a man during his ſtudies to fit him for the world, and accordingly in general they are held no longer than till an opportunity offers of getting away. Now and then, perhaps, there is a fellow who grows old in his college; but this is againſt his will, unleſs he be a man very indolent indeed. A hundred a year is reckoned a good fellowſhip, and that is no more than is neceſſary to keep a man decently as a ſcholar. We do not allow our fellows to marry, becauſe we conſider academical inſtitutions as preparatory to a ſettlement in the world. It is only by being employed as a tutor, that a fellow can obtain any thing more than a livelihood. To be ſure a man, who has enough without teaching, will pro⯑bably not teach; for we would all be idle if we could. In the ſame manner, a man who is to get nothing by teaching, will not exert himſelf. Greſham-College was intended as a place of inſtruction for London; able Profeſſors were to read lectures gratis, they contrived to have no ſcholars; whereas, if they had been allowed to receive but ſix-pence a lecture from each ſcholar, they would have been emulous to have had many ſcholars. Every body will agree that it ſhould be the intereſt of thoſe who teach to have ſcholars; and this is the caſe in our Univerſities. That they are too rich is certainly not true; for they have nothing good enough to keep a man of eminent learning with them for his life. In the foreign Univerſities a profeſſorſhip is a high thing. It is as much almoſt as a man can make by his learning; and therefore we find the moſt learned men abroad are in the Univerſities. It is not ſo with us. Our Uiverſities are impoveriſhed of learning, by the penury of their proviſions. I wiſh there were many places of a thouſand a-year at Oxford, to keep firſt rate men of learning from quitting the Univerſity."’ Undoubtedly, [51] if this were the caſe, Literature would have a ſtill greater dignity and ſplendour at Oxford, and there would be grander living ſources of inſtruction.

I mentioned Mr. Maclaurin's uneaſineſs on account of a degree of ridicule careleſsly thrown on his deceaſed father, in Goldſmith's ‘"Hiſtory of Animated Nature,"’ in which that celebrated mathematician is repreſented as being ſubject to fits of yawning ſo violent as to render him incapable of proceeding in his lecture; a ſtory altogether unfounded, but for the publication of which the law would give no reparation ⁶. This led us to agitate the queſtion, whether legal redreſs could be obtained, even when a man's deceaſed relation was calumniated in a publication. Mr. Murray maintained there ſhould be repara⯑tion, unleſs the authour could juſtify himſelf by proving the fact. JOHNSON. ‘"Sir, it is of ſo much more conſequence that truth ſhould be told, than that individuals ſhould not be made uneaſy, that it is much better that the law does not reſtrain writing freely concerning the characters of the dead. Damages will be given to a man who is calumniated in his life-time, becauſe he may be hurt in his worldly intereſt, or at leaſt hurt in his mind: but the law does not regard that uneaſineſs which a man feels on having his anceſtor calumniated. That is too nice. Let him deny what is ſaid, and let the matter have a fair chance by diſcuſſion. But, if a man could ſay nothing againſt a character but what he can prove, hiſtory could not be written; for a great deal is known of men of which proof cannot be brought. A miniſter may be notoriouſly known to take bribes, and yet you may not be able to prove it."’ Mr. Murray ſuggeſted, that the authour ſhould be obliged to ſhew ſome ſort of evidence, though he would not require a ſtrict legal proof: but Johnſon firmly and reſolutely oppoſed any reſtraint whatever, as adverſe to a free inveſtigation of the characters of mankind ⁷.

[52] On Thurſday, April 4, having called on Dr. Johnſon, I ſaid, it was a pity that truth was not ſo firm as to bid defiance to all attacks, ſo that it might be ſhot at as much as people choſe to attempt, and yet remain unhurt. JOHNSON. ‘"Then, Sir, it would not be ſhot at. Nobody attempts to diſpute that two and two make four: but with conteſts concerning moral truth, human paſſions are generally mixed, and therefore it muſt ever be liable to aſſault and miſrepreſentation."’

On Friday, April 5, being Good-Friday, after having attended the morning ſervice at St. Clement's church, I walked home with Johnſon. We talked of the Roman Catholick religion. JOHNSON. ‘"In the barbarous ages, Sir, prieſts and people were equally deceived; but afterwards there were groſs corruptions introduced by the clergy, ſuch as indulgences to prieſts to have concubines, and the worſhip of images, not, indeed, inculcated, but knowingly permitted."’ He ſtrongly cenſured the licenſed ſtews at Rome. BOSWELL. ‘"So then, Sir, you would allow of no irregular intercourſe whatever between the ſexes?"’ JOHNSON. ‘"To be ſure I would not, Sir. I would puniſh it much more than is done, and ſo reſtrain it. In all countries there has been fornication, as in all countries there has been theft; but there may be more or leſs of the one, as well as of the other, in proportion to the force of law. All men will naturally commit fornication, as all men will naturally ſteal. And, Sir, it is very abſurd to argue, as has been often done, that proſtitutes are neceſſary to pre⯑vent the violent effects of appetite from violating the decent order of life; nay, ſhould be permitted, in order to preſerve the chaſtity of our wives and daughters. Depend upon it, Sir, ſevere laws, ſteadily enforced, would be ſufficient againſt thoſe evils, and would promote marriage."’

I ſtated to him this caſe:—‘"Suppoſe a man has a daughter who he knows has been ſeduced, but her misfortune is concealed from the world: ſhould he keep her in his houſe? Would he not, by doing ſo, be acceſſary to impoſition? And, perhaps, a worthy unſuſpecting man might come and marry this woman, unleſs the father inform him of the truth."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Sir, he is acceſſary to no impoſition. His daughter is in his houſe; and if a man courts her, he takes his chance. If a friend, or, indeed, if any man aſks his opinion whether he ſhould marry her, he ought to adviſe him againſt it, without tell⯑ing why, becauſe his real opinion is then required. Or, if he has other [53] daughters who know of her frailty, he ought not to keep her in his houſe. You are to conſider the ſtate of life is this; we are to judge of one another's characters as well as we can; and a man is not bound, in honeſty or honour, to tell us the faults of his daughter or of himſelf. A man who has debauched his friend's daughter is not obliged to ſay to every body—'Take care of me don't let me into your houſes without ſuſpicion. I once debauched a friend's daughter: I may debauch yours."’

Mr. Thrale called upon him, and appeared to bear the loſs of his ſon with a manly compoſure. There was no affectation about him; and he talked, as uſual, upon indifferent ſubjects. He ſeemed to me to heſitate as to the intended Italian tour, on which, I flattered myſelf, he and Mrs. Thrale and Dr. Johnſon were ſoon to ſet out; and, therefore, I preſſed it as much as I could. I mentioned that Mr. Beauclerk had ſaid, that Baretti, whom they were to carry with them, would keep them ſo long in the little towns of his own diſtrict, that they would not have time to ſee Rome. I mentioned this, to put them on their guard. JOHNSON. ‘"Sir, we do not thank Mr. Beauclerk for ſuppoſing that we are to be directed by Baretti. No, Sir; Mr. Thrale is to go, by my advice, to Mr. Jackſon, (the all-knowing,) and get from him a plan for ſeeing the moſt that can be ſeen in the time that we have to travel. We muſt, to be ſure, ſee Rome, Naples, Florence, and Venice, and as much more as we can,"’ (ſpeaking with a tone of animation).

When I expreſſed an earneſt wiſh for his remarks on Italy, he ſaid, ‘"I do not ſee that I could make a book upon Italy; yet I ſhould be glad to get two hundred pounds, or five hundred pounds by ſuch a work.’ This ſhewed both that a journal of his Tour upon the Continent was not wholly out of his contemplation, and that he uniformly adhered to that ſtrange opinion, which his indolent diſpoſition made him utter: ‘"No man but a blockhead ever wrote, except for money."’ Numerous inſtances to refute this will occur to all who are verſed in the hiſtory of literature.

He gave us one of the many ſketches of character which were treaſured in his mind, and which he was wont to produce quite unexpectedly in a very entertaining manner. ‘"I lately (ſaid he,) received a letter from the Eaſt-Indies, from a gentleman whom I formerly knew very well; he had returned from that country with a handſome fortune, as it was reckoned, before means were found to acquire thoſe immenſe ſums which have been brought from thence of late; he was a ſcholar, and an agreeable man, and lived very prettily in London, till his wife died. After her death, he took to diſſipation and gaming, and loſt all he had. One evening he loſt a thouſand pounds to a gentleman whoſe name I am ſorry I have forgotten. Next morning he ſent the gentleman [54] five hundred pounds, with an apology that it was all he had in the world. The gentleman ſent the money back to him, declaring he would not accept it; and adding, that if Mr.—had ocaſion for five hundred pounds more he would lend it to him. He reſolved to go out again to the Eaſt-Indies, and make his fortune anew. He got a conſiderable appointment, and I had ſome intention of accompanying him. Had I thought then as I do now, I ſhould have gone: but, at that time, I had objections to quitting England."’

It was a very remarkable circumſtance about Johnſon, whom ſhallow obſervers have ſuppoſed to have been ignorant of the world, that very few men had ſeen greater variety of characters; and none could obſerve them better, as was evident from the ſtrong, yet nice portraits which he often drew. I have frequently thought that if he had made out what the French call une catalogue raiſonnée of all the people who had paſſed under his obſervation, it would have afforded a very rich fund of inſtruction and entertainment. The ſuddenneſs with which his accounts of ſome of them ſtarted out in converſation, was not leſs pleaſing than ſurpriſing. I remember he once obſerved to me, ‘"It is wonderful, Sir, what is to be found in London. The moſt literary converſation that I ever enjoyed, was at the table of Jack Ellis, a money⯑ſcrivener behind the Royal-Exchange, with whom I at one period uſed to dine generally once a week ⁸."’

Volumes would be required to contain a liſt of his numerous and various acquaintance, none of whom he ever forgot; and could deſcribe and diſcri⯑minate them all with preciſion and vivacity. He aſſociated with perſons the moſt widely different in manners, abilities, rank, and accompliſhments. He was at once the companion of the brilliant Colonel Forreſter of the guards, who wrote ‘"The Polite Philoſopher,"’ and of the aukward and uncouth [55] Robert Levett; of Lord Thurlow, and Mr. Saſtres, the Italian maſter; and has dined one day with the beautiful, gay, and faſcinating Lady Craven ⁹, and the next with good Mrs. Gardiner the tallow-chandler, on Snow-hill.

On my expreſſing my wonder at his diſcovering ſo much of the knowledge peculiar to different profeſſions, he told me, ‘"I learnt what I know of law, chiefly from Mr. Ballow, a very able man. I learnt ſome too from Chambers; but was not ſo teachable then. One is not willing to be taught by a young man."’ When I expreſſed a wiſh to know more about Mr. Ballow, Johnſon ſaid, ‘"Sir, I have ſeen him but once theſe twenty years. The tide of life has driven us different ways."’ I was ſorry at the time to hear this; but whoever quits the creeks of private connections, and fairly gets into the great ocean of London, will, by imperceptible degrees, unavoidably experience this.

‘"My knowledge of phyſick, (he added,) I learnt from Dr. James, whom I helped in writing the propoſals for his Dictionary, and alſo a little in the Dictionary itſelf. I alſo learnt ſome from Dr. Lawrence, but was then grown more ſtubborn."’

A curious incident happened to-day, while Mr. Thrale and I ſat with him. Francis announced that a large packet was brought to him from the poſt-office, ſaid to have come from Liſbon, and it was charged ſeven pounds ten ſhillings. He would not receive it, ſuppoſing it to be ſome trick, nor did he even look at it. But upon enquiry afterwards he found that it was a real packet for him, from that very friend in the Eaſt-Indies of whom he had been ſpeak⯑ing; and the ſhip which carried it having come to Portugal, this packet, with others, had been put into the poſt-office at Liſbon.

I mentioned a new gaming club, of which Mr. Beauclerk had given me an account, where the members played to a deſperate extent. JOHNSON. ‘"Depend upon it, Sir, this is mere talk. Who is ruined by gaming? You will not find ſix inſtances in an age. There is a ſtrange rout made about deep play; whereas you have many more people ruined by adventurous trade, and yet we do not hear ſuch an outcry againſt it."’ THRALE. ‘"There may be few people abſolutely ruined by deep play; but very many are much hurt in their circumſtances by it."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Yes, Sir; and ſo are very many by other kinds of expence."’ I had heard him talk once before in the ſame manner; and at Oxford he ſaid, ‘"he wiſhed he had learnt to play at cards."’ The [56] truth, however, is, that he loved to diſplay his ingenuity in argument; and therefore would ſometimes in converſation maintain opinions which he was ſenſible were wrong, but in ſupporting which, his reaſoning and wit would be moſt conſpicuous. He would begin thus: ‘"Why, Sir, as to the good or evil of card-playing—"’ ‘"Now (ſaid Garrick,) he is thinking which ſide he ſhall take."’ He appeared to have a pleaſure in contradiction, eſpecially when any opinion whatever was delivered with an air of confidence; ſo that there was hardly any topick, if not one of the great truths of Religion and Morality, that he might not have been incited to argue, either for or againſt it. Lord Elibank ¹ had the higheſt admiration of his powers. He once obſerved to me, ‘"Whatever opinion Johnſon maintains, I will not ſay that he convinces me; but he never fails to ſhow me, that he has good reaſons for it."’ I have heard Johnſon pay his Lordſhip this high compliment: ‘"I never was in Lord Elibank's company without learning ſomething."’

We ſat together till it was too late for the afternoon ſervice. Thrale ſaid, he had come with intention to go to church with us. We went at ſeven to evening prayers at St. Clement's church, after having drank coffee; an indulgence, which I underſtood Johnſon yielded to on this occaſion, in com⯑pliment to Thrale.

On Sunday, April 7, Eaſter-day, after having been at St. Paul's cathedral, I came to Dr. Johnſon, according to my uſual cuſtom. It ſeemed to me, that there was always ſomething peculiarly mild and placid in his manner upon this holy feſtival, the commemoration of the moſt joyful event in the hiſtory of our world, the reſurrection of our LORD and SAVIOUR, who, having triumphed over death and the grave, proclaimed immortality to mankind.

I repeated to him an argument of a lady of my acquaintance, who main⯑tained, that her huſband's having been guilty of numberleſs infidelities, releaſed her from conjugal obligations, becauſe they were reciprocal. JOHNSON. ‘"This is miſerable ſtuff, Sir. To the contract of marriage, beſides the man and wife, there is a third party—Society; and, if it be conſidered as a vow—GOD: and, therefore, it cannot be diſſolved by their conſent alone. Laws are not made for particular caſes, but for mankind in general. A woman may be unhappy with her huſband; but ſhe cannot be freed from him without the approbation of the civil and eccleſiaſtical power. A man may be unhappy, becauſe he is not ſo rich as another; but he is not to ſeize upon another's property with his own hand."’ BOSWELL. ‘"But, Sir, this lady does not want [57] that the contract ſhould be diſſolved; ſhe only argues that ſhe may indulge herſelf in gallantries with equal freedom as her huſband does, provided ſhe takes care not to introduce a ſpurious iſſue into his family. You know, Sir, what Macrobius has told us of Julia ¹."’ JOHNSON. ‘"This lady of yours, Sir, I think, is very fit for a brothel."’

Mr. Macbean, authour of the ‘"Dictionary of ancient Geography,"’ came in. He mentioned, that he had been forty years abſent from Scotland. ‘"Ah, Boſwell! (ſaid Johnſon, ſmiling,) what would you give to be forty years from Scotland?"’ I ſaid, ‘"I ſhould not like to be ſo long abſent from the ſeat of my anceſtors."’ This gentleman, Mrs. Williams, and Mr. Levett, dined with us.

Dr. Johnſon made a remark, which both Mr. Macbean and I thought new. It was this: that ‘"the law againſt uſury is for the protection of creditors as well as of debtors; for if there were no ſuch check, people would be apt, from the temptation of great intereſt, to lend to deſperate perſons, by whom they would loſe their money. Accordingly there are inſtances of ladies being ruined, by having injudiciouſly ſunk their fortunes for high annuities, which, after a few years, ceaſed to be paid, in conſequence of the ruined circumſtances of the borrower."’

Mrs. Williams was very peeviſh; and I wondered at Johnſon's patience with her now, as I had often done on ſimilar occaſions. The truth is, that his humane conſideration of the forlorn and indigent ſtate in which this lady was left by her father, induced him to treat her with the utmoſt tenderneſs, and even to be deſirous of procuring her amuſement, ſo as ſometimes to incommode many of his friends, by carrying her with him to their houſes, where, from her manner of eating, in conſequence of her blindneſs, ſhe could not but offend the delicacy of perſons of nice ſenſations.

After coffee, we went to afternoon ſervice in St. Clement's church. Obſerving ſome beggars in the ſtreet as we walked along, I ſaid to him I ſuppoſed there was no civiliſed country in the world, where the miſery of want in the loweſt claſſes of the people was prevented. JOHNSON. ‘"I believe, Sir, there is not; but it is better that ſome ſhould be unhappy, than that none ſhould be happy, which would be the caſe in a general ſtate of equality."’

When the ſervice was ended, I went home with him, and we ſat quietly by ourſelves. He recommended Dr. Cheyne's books. I ſaid, I thought Cheyne [58] had been reckoned whimſical.—‘"So he was, (ſaid he,) in ſome things; but there [...]s no end of objections. There are few books to which ſome objection or other may not be made."’

Upon the queſtion whether a man who had been guilty of vicious actions would do well to force himſelf into ſolitude and ſadneſs; JOHNSON. ‘"No, Sir, unleſs it prevent him from being vicious again. With ſome people, gloomy penitence is only madneſs turned upſide down. A man may be gloomy, till, in order to be relieved from gloom, he has recourſe again to criminal indulgences."’

On Wedneſday, April 10, I dined with him at Mr. Thrale's, where were Mr. Murphy and ſome other company. Before dinner, Dr. Johnſon and I paſſed ſome time by ourſelves. I was ſorry to find it was now reſolved that the propoſed journey to Italy ſhould not take place this year. He ſaid, ‘"I am diſappointed, to be ſure; but it is not a great diſappointment."’ I wondered to ſee him bear, with a philoſophical calmneſs, what would have made moſt people peeviſh and fretful. I perceived, however, that he had ſo warmly cheriſhed the hope of enjoying claſſical ſcenes, that he could not eaſily part with the ſcheme; for he ſaid, ‘"I ſhall probably contrive to get to Italy ſome other way. But I won't mention it to Mr. and Mrs. Thrale, as it might vex them."’ I ſuggeſted, that going to Italy might have done Mr. and Mrs. Thrale good. JOHNSON. ‘"I rather believe not, Sir. While grief is freſh, every attempt to divert only irritates. You muſt wait till grief be digeſted, and then amuſement will diſſipate the remains of it."’

At dinner, Mr. Murphy entertained us with the hiſtory of Mr. Joſeph Simpſon, a ſchoolfellow of Dr. Johnſon's, a barriſter at law, of good parts, but who fell into a diſſipated courſe of life, incompatible with that ſucceſs in his profeſſion which he once had, and would otherwiſe have deſervedly main⯑tained; yet he ſtill preſerved a dignity in his deportment. He wrote a tragedy on the ſtory of Leonidas, entitled ‘"The Patriot,"’ He read it to a company of lawyers, who found ſo many faults, that he wrote it over again: ſo then there were two tragedies on the ſame ſubject, and with the ſame title. Dr. Johnſon told us, that one of them was ſtill in his poſſeſſion. This very piece was, after his death, publiſhed by ſome perſon who had been about him, and, for the ſake of a little haſty profit, was poſitively averred to have been written by Johnſon himſelf.

I ſaid, I diſliked the cuſtom which ſome people had of bringing their children into company, becauſe it in a manner forced us to pay fooliſh com⯑pliments to pleaſe their parents. JOHNSON. ‘"You are right, Sir. We may be excuſed for not caring much about other people's children, for there are [59] many who care very little about their own children. It may be obſerved, that men, who from being engaged in buſineſs, or from their courſe of life in whatever way, ſeldom ſee their children, do not care much about them. I myſelf ſhould not have had much fondneſs for a child of my own."’ MRS. THRALE. ‘"Nay, Sir, how can you talk ſo?"’ JOHNSON. ‘"At leaſt, I never wiſhed to have a child."’

Mr. Murphy mentioned Dr. Johnſon's having a deſign to publiſh an edition of Cowley. Johnſon ſaid, he did not know but he ſhould; and he expreſſed his diſapprobation of Dr. Hurd, for having publiſhed a mutilated edition under the title of ‘"Select Works of Abraham Cowley."’ Mr. Murphy thought it a bad precedent; obſerving, that any authour might be uſed in the ſame manner; and that it was pleaſing to ſee the variety of an authour's compo⯑ſitions, at different periods.

We talked of Flatman's Poems; and Mrs. Thrale obſerved, that Pope had partly borrowed from him, ‘"The dying Chriſtian to his Soul."’ Johnſon re⯑peated Rocheſter's verſes upon Flatman, which, I think, by much too ſevere:

I like to recollect all the paſſages that I heard Johnſon repeat: it ſtamps a value on them.

He told us, that the book entitled ‘"The Lives of the Poets, by Mr. Cibber,"’ was entirely compiled by Mr. Shiels, a Scotchman, one of his amanuenſes. ‘"The bookſellers (ſaid he,) gave Theophilus Cibber, who was then in priſon, ten guineas, to allow Mr. Cibber to be put upon the title-page, as the authour; by this, a double impoſition was intended: in the firſt place, that it was the work of a Cibber at all; and, in the ſecond place, that it was the work of old Cibber."’

Mr. Murphy ſaid, that ‘"The Memoirs of Gray's Life ſet him much higher in his eſtimation than his poems did; for you there ſaw a man con⯑ſtantly at work in literature."’ Johnſon acquieſced in this, but depreciated the book, I thought, very unreaſonably. For he ſaid, ‘"I forced myſelf to read it, only becauſe it was a common topick of converſation. I found it mighty dull; and, as to the ſtyle, it is fit for the ſecond table."’ Why he thought ſo, I was at a loſs to conceive. He now gave it as his opinion, that ‘"Akenſide was a ſuperiour poet both to Gray and Maſon."’

[60] Talking of the Reviews, Johnſon ſaid, ‘"I think them very impartial: I do not know an inſtance of partiality."’ He mentioned what had paſſed upon the ſubject of the Monthly and Critical Reviews, in the converſation with which his Majeſty had honoured him. He expatiated a little more on them this evening. ‘"The Monthly Reviewers (ſaid he) are not Deiſts; but they are Chriſtians with as little chriſtianity as may be; and are for pulling down all eſtabliſhments. The Critical Reviewers are for ſupporting the con⯑ſtitution, both in church and ſtate. The Critical Reviewers, I believe, often review without reading the books through; but lay hold of a topick, and write chiefly from their own minds. The Monthly Reviewers are duller men, and are glad to read the books through."’

He talked of Lord Lyttelton's extreme anxiety as an authour; obſerving, that ‘"he was thirty years in preparing his Hiſtory, and that he employed a man to point it for him; as if (laughing) another man could point his ſenſe better than himſelf."’ Mr. Murphy ſaid, he underſtood his Hiſtory was kept back ſeveral years for fear of Smollet. JOHNSON. ‘"This ſeems ſtrange to Murphy and me, who never felt that anxiety, but ſent what we wrote to the preſs, and let it take its chance."’ MRS. THRALE. ‘"The time has been, Sir, when you felt it."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Why really, Madam, I do not recollect a time when that was the caſe."’

Talking of ‘"The Spectator,"’ he ſaid, ‘"It is wonderful that there is ſuch a proportion of bad papers, in the half of the work which was not written by Addiſon; for there was all the world to write that half, yet not a half of that half is good. One of the fineſt pieces in the Engliſh language is the paper on Novelty, yet we do not hear it talked of. It was written by Grove, a diſſent⯑ing teacher."’ He would not, I perceived, call him a clergyman, though he was candid enough to allow very great merit to his compoſition. Mr. Murphy ſaid, he remembered when there were ſeveral people alive in London, who enjoyed a conſiderable reputation merely from having written a paper in ‘"The Spectator."’ He mentioned particularly Mr. Ince, who uſed to frequent Tom's coffee-houſe. ‘"But (ſaid Johnſon,) you muſt conſider how highly Steele ſpeaks of Mr. Ince."’ He would not allow that the paper on carrying a boy to travel, ſigned Philip Homebred, which was written by the Lord Chancellor Hardwick, had merit. He ſaid, ‘"it was quite vulgar, and had nothing luminous."’

Johnſon mentioned Dr. Barry's ‘"Syſtem of Phyſick."’ ‘"He was a man (ſaid he,) who had acquired a high reputation in Dublin, came over to Eng⯑land, and brought his reputation with him, but had not great ſucceſs. His notion [61] was, that pulſation occaſions death by attrition; and that, therefore, the way to preſerve life is to retard pulſation. But we know that pulſation is ſtrongeſt in infants, and that we increaſe in growth while it operates in its regular courſe; ſo it cannot be the cauſe of deſtruction."’ Soon after this, he ſaid ſomething very flattering to Mrs. Thrale, which I do not recollect; but it concluded with wiſhing her long life. ‘"Sir, (ſaid I,) if Dr. Barry's ſyſtem be true, you have now ſhortened Mrs. Thrale's life, perhaps, ſome minutes, by accelerating her pulſation."’

On Thurſday, April 11, I dined with him at General Paoli's, in whoſe houſe I now reſided, and where I had ever afterwards the honour of being enter⯑tained with the kindeſt attention as his conſtant gueſt, while I was in London, till I had a houſe of my own there. I mentioned my having that morning introduced to Mr. Garrick, Count Neni, a Flemiſh nobleman of great rank and fortune, to whom Garrick talked of Abel Drugger as a ſmall part; and related, with pleaſant vanity, that a Frenchman who had ſeen him in one of his low characters, exclaimed, ‘"Comment! je ne le crois pas. Ce n'eſt pas, Monſieur Garrick, ce Grand Homme!"’ Garrick added, with an appearance of grave recollection, ‘"If I were to begin life again, I think I ſhould not play thoſe low characters."’ Upon which I obſerved, ‘"Sir, you would be in the wrong; for your great excellence is your variety of playing, your repreſenting ſo well, characters ſo very different.’ JOHNSON. ‘"Garrick, Sir, was not in earneſt in what he ſaid; for, to be ſure, his peculiar excellence is his variety: and, perhaps, there is not any one character which has not been as well acted by ſomebody elſe, as he could do it."’ BOSWELL. ‘"Why then, Sir, did he talk ſo?"’ JOHNSON. ‘"Why, Sir, to make you anſwer as you did."’ BOSWELL. ‘"I don't know, Sir; he ſeemed to dip deep into his mind for the reflection."’ JOHNSON. ‘"He had not far to dip, Sir: he had ſaid the ſame thing, probably, twenty times before."’

Of a nobleman raiſed at a very early period to high office, he ſaid, ‘"His parts, Sir, are pretty well for a Lord, but would not be diſtinguiſhed in a man who had nothing elſe but his parts."’

A journey to Italy was ſtill in his thoughts. He ſaid, ‘"A man who has not been in Italy, is always conſcious of an inferiority,—from his not having ſeen what it is expected a man ſhould ſee. The grand object of travelling is to ſee the ſhores of the Mediterrannean. On thoſe ſhores were the four great empires of the world; the Aſſyrian, the Perſian, the Grecian, and the Roman.—All our religion, almoſt all our law, almoſt all our arts, almoſt all that ſets us above ſavages, has come to us from the ſhores of the Mediter⯑ranean."’ [62] The General obſerved, that ‘"THE MEDITERRANEAN would be a noble ſubject for a poem."’

We talked of tranſlation. I ſaid, I could not define it, nor could I think of a ſimilitude to illuſtrate it; but that it appeared to me the tranſlation of poetry could be only imitation. JOHNSON. ‘"You may tranſlate books of ſcience exactly. You may alſo tranſlate hiſtory, in ſo far as it is not embel⯑liſhed with oratory, which is poetical. Poetry, indeed, cannot be tranſlated; and, therefore, it is the poets that preſerve languages; for we would not be at the trouble to learn a language, if we could have all that is written in it juſt as well in a tranſlation. But as the beauties of poetry cannot be preſerved in any language except that in which it was originally written, we learn the language."’

A gentleman maintained that the art of printing had hurt real learning, by diſſeminating idle writings.—JOHNSON. ‘"Sir, if it had not been for the art of printing, we ſhould now have no learning at all; for books would have periſhed faſter than they could have been tranſcribed."’ This obſervation ſeems not juſt, conſidering for how many ages books were preſerved by writing alone.

The ſame gentleman maintained, that a general diffuſion of knowledge among a people was a diſadvantage; for it made the vulgar riſe above their humble ſphere. JOHNSON. ‘"Sir, while knowledge is a diſtinction, thoſe who are poſſeſſed of it will naturally riſe above thoſe who are not. Merely to read and write was a diſtinction at firſt; but we ſee when reading and writing have become general, the common people keep their ſtations. And ſo, were higher attainments to become general, the effect would be the ſame."’

‘"Goldſmith (he ſaid,) referred every thing to vanity; his virtues, and his vices too, were from that motive. He was not a ſocial man. He never exchanged mind with you."’

We ſpent the evening at Mr. Hoole's. Mr. Mickle, the excellent tranſlator of ‘"The Luſiad,"’ was there. I have preſerved little of the converſation of this evening. Dr. Johnſon ſaid, ‘"Thomſon had a true poetical genius, the power of viewing every thing in a poetical light. His fault is ſuch a cloud of words ſometimes, that the ſenſe can hardly peep through. Shiels, who com⯑piled 'Cibber's Lives of the Poets,' was one day ſitting with me. I took down Thomſon, and read aloud a large portion of him, and then aſked,—Is not this fine? Shiels having expreſſed the higheſt admiration. Well, Sir, (ſaid I,) I have omitted every other line."’

[63] I related a diſpute between Goldſmith and Mr. Robert Dodſley, one day when they and I were dining at Tom Davies's, in 1762. Goldſmith aſſerted, that there was no poetry produced in this age. Dodſley appealed to his own Collection, and maintained, that though you could not find a Palace like Dryden's ‘"Ode on St. Cecilia's Day,"’ you had villages compoſed of very pretty houſes; and he mentioned particularly ‘"The Spleen."’ JOHNSON. ‘"I think Dodſley gave up the queſtion. He and Goldſmith ſaid the ſame thing; only he ſaid it in a ſofter manner than Goldſmith did: for he acknowledged that there was no poetry, nothing that towered above the common mark. You may find wit and humour in verſe, and yet no poetry. 'Hudibras' has a profuſion of theſe; yet it is not to be reckoned a poem. 'The Spleen,' in Dodſley's collection, on which you ſay he chiefly reſted, is not poetry."’ BOSWELL. ‘"Does not Gray's poetry, Sir, tower above the common mark?"’ JOHNSON. ‘"Yes, Sir; but we muſt attend to the difference between what men in general cannot do if they would, and what every man may do if he would. Sixteen-ſtring Jack towered above the common mark."’ BOSWELL. ‘"Then, Sir, what is poetry?"’ JOHNSON. ‘"Why, Sir, it is much eaſier to ſay what it is not. We all know what light is; but it is not eaſy to tell what it is."’

On Friday, April 12, I dined with him at our friend Tom Davies's, where we met Mr. Cradock, a Leiceſterſhire gentleman, authour of ‘"Zobeide,"’ a tragedy; and Dr. Harwood, who has written and publiſhed various works.

I introduced Ariſtotle's doctrine in his ‘"Art of Poetry,"’ of ‘"the [...], the purging of the paſſions,"’ as the purpoſe of tragedy. ‘"But how are the paſſions to be purged by terrour and pity?"’ (ſaid I, with an aſſumed air of ignorance, to incite him to talk, for which it was often neceſ⯑ſary to employ ſome addreſs). JOHNSON. ‘"Why, Sir, you are to conſider what is the meaning of purging in the original ſenſe. It is to expel impuri⯑ties from the human body. The mind is ſubject to the ſame imperfection. The paſſions are the great movers of human actions; but they are mixed with ſuch impurities, that it is neceſſary they ſhould be purged or refined by means of terrour and pity. For inſtance, ambition is a noble paſſion; but by ſee⯑ing upon the ſtage, that a man who is ſo exceſſively ambitious as to raiſe himſelf by injuſtice, is puniſhed, we are terrified at the fatal conſequences of ſuch a paſſion. In the ſame manner a certain degree of reſentment is neceſ⯑ſary; but if we ſee that a man carries it too far, we pity the object of it, and are taught to moderate that paſſion."’ My record upon this occaſion does great injuſtice to Johnſon's expreſſion, which was ſo forcible and brilliant, that Mr. Cradock whiſpered me, ‘"O that his words were written in a book!"’

[64] I obſerved the great defect of the tragedy of ‘"Othello"’ was, that it had not a moral, for that no man could reſiſt the circumſtances of ſuſpicion which were artfully ſuggeſted to Othello's mind. JOHNSON. ‘"In the firſt place, Sir, we learn from Othello this very uſeful moral, not to make an unequal match; in the ſecond place, we learn not to yield too readily to ſuſpicion. The handkerchief is merely a trick, though a very pretty trick; but there are no other circumſtances of reaſonable ſuſpicion, except what is related by Iago of Caſſio's warm expreſſions concerning Deſdemona in his ſleep; and that depended entirely upon the aſſertion of one man. No, Sir, I think Othello has more moral than almoſt any play."’

Talking of a penurious gentleman of our acquaintance, Johnſon ſaid, ‘"Sir, he is narrow, not ſo much from avarice, as from impotence to ſpend his money. He cannot find in his heart to pour out a bottle of wine; but he would not much care if it ſhould ſour."’

He ſaid, he wiſhed to ſee ‘"John Dennis's Critical Works"’ collected. Davies ſaid they would not ſell. Dr. Johnſon ſeemed to think otherwiſe.

Davies ſaid of a well known dramatick authour, that ‘"he lived upon potted ſtories, and that he made his way as Hannibal did, by vinegar; having begun by attacking people; particularly the players."’

He reminded Dr. Johnſon of Mr. Murphy's having paid him the higheſt compliment that ever was paid to a layman, by aſking his pardon for repeat⯑ing ſome oaths in the courſe of telling a ſtory.

Johnſon and I ſupt this evening at the Crown and Anchor tavern, in com⯑pany with Sir Joſhua Reynolds, Mr. Langton, Mr. Nairne, now one of the Scotch Judges, with the title of Lord Dunſinan, and my very worthy friend, Sir William Forbes, of Pitſligo.

We diſcuſſed the queſtion whether drinking improved converſation and benevolence. Sir Joſhua maintained it did. JOHNSON. ‘"No, Sir: before dinner men meet with great inequality of underſtanding; and thoſe who are conſcious of their inferiority, have the modeſty not to talk. When they have drunk wine, every man feels himſelf happy, and loſes that modeſty, and grows impudent and vociferous: but he is not improved; he is only not ſenſible of his defects."’ Sir Joſhua ſaid that the Doctor was talking of the effects of exceſs in wine; but that a moderate glaſs enlivened the mind, by giving a proper circulation to the blood. ‘"I am (ſaid he,) in very good ſpirits when I get up in the morning. By dinner-time I am exhauſted; wine puts me in the ſame ſtate as when I got up; and I am ſure that moderate [65] drinking makes people talk better."’ JOHNSON. ‘"No, Sir; wine gives not light, gay, ideal hilarity; but tumultuous, noiſy, clamourous merriment. I have heard none of thoſe drunken,—nay, drunken is a coarſe word,—none of thoſe vinous flights."’ SIR JOSHUA. ‘"Becauſe you have ſat by, quite ſober, and felt an envy of the happineſs of thoſe who were drinking."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Perhaps, contempt.—And, Sir, it is not neceſſary to be drunk one's ſelf, to reliſh the wit of drunkenneſs. Do we not judge of the drunken wit of the dialogue between Iago and Caſſio, the moſt excellent in its kind, when we are quite ſober? Wit is wit, by whatever means it is produced; and, if good, will appear ſo at all times. I admit that the ſpirits are raiſed by drinking, as by the common participation of any pleaſure; cock-fighting, or bear-baiting, will raiſe the ſpirits of a company as drinking does, though ſurely they will not improve converſation. I alſo admit, that there are ſome ſluggiſh men who are improved by drinking, as there are fruits which are not good till they are rotten. There are ſuch men, but they are medlars. I indeed allow that there have been a very few men of talents who were improved by drinking; but I maintain that I am right as to the effects of drinking in general: and let it be conſidered, that there is no poſition, however falſe in its univerſality, which is not true of ſome particular man."’ Sir William Forbes ſaid, ‘"Might not a man warmed with wine be like a bottle of beer, which is made briſker by being ſet before the fire?"’—‘"Nay, (ſaid Johnſon, laughing,) I cannot anſwer that: that is too much for me."’

I obſerved, that wine did ſome people harm, by inflaming, confuſing, and irritating their minds; but that the experience of mankind had declared in favour of moderate drinking. JOHNSON. ‘"Sir, I do not ſay it is wrong to produce ſelf-complacency by drinking; I only deny that it improves the mind. When I drank wine, I ſcorned to drink it when in company. I have drunk many a bottle by myſelf: in the firſt place, becauſe I had need of it to raiſe my ſpirits; in the ſecond place, becauſe I would have nobody to witneſs its effects upon me."’

He told us, ‘"almoſt all his Ramblers were written juſt as they were wanted for the preſs; that he ſent a certain portion of the copy of an eſſay, and wrote the remainder, while the former part of it was printing. When it was wanted, and he had fairly ſat down to it, he was ſure it would be done."’

He ſaid, that for general improvement, a man ſhould read whatever his im⯑mediate inclination prompts him to; though, to be ſure, if a man has a ſcience to learn, he muſt regularly and reſolutely advance. He added, ‘"what we read with inclination makes a much ſtronger impreſſion. If we read without [66] inclination, half the mind is employed in fixing the attention; ſo there is but one half to be employed on what we read."’ He told us, he read Fielding's ‘"Amelia"’ through without ſtopping ². He ſaid, ‘"if a man begins to read in the middle of a book, and feels an inclination to go on, let him not quit it, to go to the beginning. He may, perhaps, not feel again the inclination."’

Sir Joſhua mentioned Mr. Cumberland's Odes, which were juſt publiſhed. JOHNSON. ‘"Why, Sir, they would have been thought as good as Odes commonly are, if Cumberland had not put his name to them; but a name immediately draws cenſure, unleſs it be a name that bears down every thing before it. Nay, Cumberland has made his Odes ſubſidiary to the fame of another man ³. They might have run well enough by themſelves; but he has not only loaded them with a name, but has made them carry double."’

We talked of the Reviews, and Dr. Johnſon ſpoke of them as he did at Thrale's ⁴. Sir Joſhua ſaid, what I have often thought, that he wondered to find ſo much good writing employed in them, when the authours were to remain unknown, and ſo could not have the motive of fame. JOHNSON. ‘"Nay, Sir, thoſe who write in them, write well, in order to be paid well."’

Soon after this day, he went to Bath with Mr. and Mrs. Thrale. I had never ſeen that beautiful city, and wiſhed to take the opportunity of viſiting it, while Johnſon was there. Having written to him, I received the following anſwer:

On the 26th of April, I went to Bath; and on my arrival at the Pelican inn, found lying for me an obliging invitation from Mr. and Mrs. Thrale, by whom I was agreeably entertained almoſt conſtantly during my ſtay. They were gone to the rooms; but there was a kind note from Dr. Johnſon, that he ſhould ſit at home all the evening. I went to him directly, and before Mr. and Mrs. Thrale returned, we had by ourſelves ſome hours of tea-drinking and talk.

I ſhall groupe together ſuch of his ſayings as I preſerved during the few days that I was at Bath.

Of a perſon who differed from him in politicks, he ſaid, ‘"In private life he is a very honeſt gentleman; but I will not allow him to be ſo in publick life. People may be honeſt, though they are doing wrong: that is between their Maker and them. But we, who are ſuffering by their pernicious conduct, are to deſtroy them. We are ſure that—acts from intereſt. We know what his genuine principles were. They who allow their paſſions to confound the diſtinctions between right and wrong, are criminal. They may be convinced; but they have not come honeſtly by their conviction."’

It having been mentioned, I know not with what truth, that a certain female political writer, whoſe doctrines he diſliked, had of late become very fond of dreſs, ſat hours together at her toilet, and even put on rouge;—JOHNSON. ‘"She is better employed at her toilet than uſing her pen. It is better ſhe ſhould be reddening her own cheeks, than blackening other people's characters."’

He told us that ‘"Addiſon wrote Budgell's papers in the Spectator, at leaſt mended them ſo much, that he made them almoſt all his own; and that Draper, Tonſon's partner, aſſured Mrs. Johnſon, that the much admired Epilogue to 'The Diſtreſſed Mother,' which came out in Budgell's name, was in reality written by Addiſon."’

‘"The mode of government by one may be ill adapted to a ſmall ſociety, but is beſt for a great nation. The characteriſtick of our own government at preſent is imbecillity. The magiſtrate dare not call the guards for fear of [68] being hanged. The guards will not come, for fear of being given up to the blind rage of popular juries."’

Of the father of one of our friends, he obſerved, ‘"He never clarified his notions, by filtrating them through other minds. He had a canal upon his eſtate, where at one place the bank was too low.—I dug the canal deeper,"’ ſaid he.

He told me that ‘"ſo long ago as 1748, he had read 'The Grave, a Poem ⁵,' but did not like it much."’ I differed from him; for though it is not equal throughout, and is ſeldom elegantly correct, it abounds in ſolemn thought, and poetical imagery beyond the common reach. The world has differed from him; for the poem has paſſed through many editions, and is ſtill much read by people of a ſerious caſt of mind.

A literary lady of large fortune was mentioned, as one who did good to many, but by no means ‘"by ſtealth,"’ and inſtead of ‘"bluſhing to find it fame,"’ acted evidently from vanity. JOHNSON. ‘"I have ſeen no beings who do as much good from benevolence, as ſhe does, from whatever motive. If there are ſuch under the earth, or in the clouds, I wiſh they would come⯑up, or come down. What Soame Jennyns ſays upon this ſubject is not to be minded; he is a wit. No, Sir, to act from pure benevolence is not poſſible for finite beings. Human benevolence is mingled with vanity, intereſt, or ſome other motive."’

He would not allow me to praiſe a lady then at Bath; obſerving, ‘"She does not gain upon me, Sir; I think her empty-headed."’ He was, indeed, a ſtern critick upon characters and manners. Even Mrs. Thrale did not eſcape his friendly animadverſion at times. When he and I were one day endeavouring to aſcertain article by article, how one of our friends could poſſibly ſpend as much money in his family as he told us he did, ſhe interrupted us with a lively extravagant ſally, on the expence of clothing his children, deſcribing it in a very ludicrous and fanciful manner. Johnſon looked a little angry, and ſaid, ‘"Nay, Madam, when you are declaiming, declaim; and when you are calculating, calculate."’ At another time, when ſhe ſaid, perhaps affectedly, ‘"I don't like to fly."’ JOHNSON. ‘"With your wings, Madam, [69] you muſt fly: but have a care, there are clippers abroad."’ How very well was this ſaid, and how fully has experience proved the truth of it! But have they not clipped rather rudely, and gone a great deal cloſer than was neceſſary?

A gentleman expreſſed a wiſh to go and live three years at Otaheite, or New-Zealand, in order to obtain a full acquaintance with people, ſo totally different from all that we have ever known, and be ſatisfied what pure nature can do for man. JOHNSON. ‘"What could you learn, Sir? What can ſavages tell, but what they themſelves have ſeen? Of the paſt, or the inviſible, they can tell nothing. The inhabitants of Otaheite and New-Zealand are not in a ſtate of pure nature; for it is plain they broke off from ſome other people. Had they grown out of the ground, you might have judged of a ſtate of pure nature. Fanciful people may talk of a mythology being amongſt them, but it muſt be invention. They have once had religion, which has been gradually debaſed. And what account of their religion can you ſuppoſe to be learnt from ſavages? Only conſider, Sir, our own ſtate: Our religion is in a book; we have an order of men whoſe duty it is to teach it; we have one day in the week ſet apart for it, and this in general pretty well obſerved: Yet aſk the firſt ten groſs men you meet, and hear what they can tell of their religion."’

On Monday, April 29, he and I made an excurſion to Briſtol, where I was entertained with ſeeing him inquire upon the ſpot, into the authenticity of ‘"Rowley's Poetry,"’ as I had ſeen him inquire upon the ſpot into the authenticity of ‘"Oſſian's Poetry."’ George Catcot, the pewterer, who was as zealous for Rowley, as Dr. Hugh Blair was for Oſſian, (I truſt my Reve⯑rend friend will excuſe the compariſon,) attended us at our inn, and with a triumphant air of lively ſimplicity called out, ‘"I'll make Dr. Johnſon a convert."’ Dr. Johnſon, at his deſire, read aloud ſome of Chatterton's fabri⯑cated verſes, while Catcot ſtood at the back of his chair, moving himſelf like a pendulum, and beating time with his feet, and now and then looking into Dr. Johnſon's face, wondering that he was not yet convinced. We called on Mr. Barret, the ſurgeon, and ſaw ſome of the originals as they were called, which were executed very artificially; but from a careful inſpection of them, and a conſideration of the circumſtances with which they were attended, we were quite ſatisfied of the impoſture, which, indeed, has been clearly demon⯑ſtrated from internal evidence, by ſeveral able criticks ⁶.

[70] Honeſt Catcot ſeemed to pay no attention whatever to any objections, but inſiſted, as an end of all controverſy, that we ſhould go with him to the tower of the church of St. Mary, Redcliff, and view with our own eyes the ancient cheſt in which the manuſcripts were found. To this, Dr. Johnſon good⯑naturedly agreed; and though troubled with a ſhortneſs of breathing, laboured up a long flight of ſteps, till we came to the place where the wondrous cheſt ſtood. ‘"There, (ſaid Catcot, with a bouncing confident credulity,) there is the very cheſt itſelf."’ After this ocular demonſtration, there was no more to be ſaid. He brought to my recollection a Scotch Highlander, a man of learning too, and who had ſeen the world, atteſting, and at the ſame time giving his reaſons for the authenticity of Fingal:—‘"I have heard all that poem when I was young."’—‘"Have you, Sir? Pray what have you heard?"’—‘"I have heard Oſſian, Oſcar, and every one of them."’

Johnſon ſaid of Chatterton, ‘"This is the moſt extraordinary young man that has encountered my knowledge. It is wonderful how the whelp has written ſuch things."’

We were by no means pleaſed with our inn at Briſtol. ‘"Let us ſee now, (ſaid I,) how we ſhould deſcribe it."’ Johnſon was ready with his raillery. ‘"Deſcribe it, Sir?—Why, it was ſo bad that Boſwell wiſhed to be in Scotland!"’

After Dr. Johnſon's return to London, I was ſeveral times with him at his houſe, where I occaſionally ſlept, in the room that had been aſſigned to me. I dined with him at Dr. Taylor's, at General Oglethorpe's, and at General Paoli's. To avoid a tedious minuteneſs, I ſhall groupe together what I have preſerved of his converſation during this period alſo, without ſpecifying each ſcene where it paſſed, except one, which will be found ſo remarkable as cer⯑tainly to deſerve a very particular relation. Where the place or the perſons do not contribute to the zeſt of the converſation, it is unneceſſary to encumber my page with mentioning them. To know of what vintage our wine is, enables us to judge of its value, and to drink it with more reliſh: but to have the produce of each vine of one vineyard, in the ſame year, kept ſeparate, would ſerve no purpoſe. To know that our wine (to uſe an advertiſing phraſe,) is ‘"of the ſtock of an Ambaſſadour lately deceaſed,"’ heightens its flavour: but it ſignifies nothing to know the bin where each bottle was once depoſited.

‘"Garrick (he obſerved,) does not play the part of Archer in ‘"The Beaux Stratagem"’ well. The gentleman ſhould break out through the footman, which is not the caſe as he does it."’

[71] ‘"Where there is no education, as in ſavage countries, men will have the upper hand of women. Bodily ſtrength, no doubt, contributes to this: but it would be ſo, excluſive of that; for it is mind that always governs. When it comes to dry underſtanding, man has the better."’

‘"The little volumes entitled ‘"Reſpublicae,"’ which are very well done, were a bookſeller's work."’

‘"There is much talk of the miſery which we cauſe to the brute creation; but they are recompenſed by exiſtence. If they were not uſeful to man, and therefore protected by him, they would not be nearly ſo numerous."’ This argument is to be found in the able and benignant Hutchinſon's ‘"Moral Philoſophy."’ But the queſtion is, whether the animals who endure ſuch ſufferings of various kinds, for the ſervice and entertainment of man, would accept of exiſtence upon the terms on which they have it. Madame Sevigné, who, though ſhe had many enjoyments, felt with delicate ſenſibility the preva⯑lence of miſery, complains of the taſk of exiſtence having been impoſed upon her without her conſent.

‘"That man is never happy for the preſent is ſo true, that all his relief from unhappineſs is only forgetting himſelf for a little while. Life is a pro⯑greſs from want to want, not from enjoyment to enjoyment."’

‘"Though many men are nominally entruſted with the adminiſtration of hoſpitals and other publick inſtitutions, almoſt all the good is done by one man, by whom the reſt are driven on; owing to confidence in him, and indolence in them."’

‘"Lord Cheſterfield's Letters to his ſon, I think, might be made a very pretty book. Take out the immorality, and it ſhould be put into the hands of every young gentleman. An elegant manner and eaſineſs of behaviour are acquired gradually and imperceptibly. No man can ſay, 'I'll be genteel.' There are ten genteel women for one genteel man, becauſe they are more reſtrained. A man without ſome degree of reſtraint is inſufferable; but we are all leſs reſtrained than women. Were a woman ſitting in company to put out her legs before her as moſt men do, we ſhould be tempted to kick them in."’

No man was a more attentive and nice obſerver of behaviour in thoſe in whoſe company he happened to be, than Johnſon; or, however ſtrange it may ſeem to many, had a higher eſtimation of its refinements. Lord Eliot informs me, that one day when Johnſon and he were at dinner at a gentleman's houſe in London, upon Lord Cheſterfield's Letters being mentioned, Johnſon ſur⯑prized the company by this ſentence: ‘"Every man of any education would [72] rather be called a raſcal, than accuſed of deficiency in the graces."’ Mr. Gibbon, who was preſent, turned to a lady who knew Johnſon well and lived much with him, and in his quaint manner, tapping his box, addreſſed her thus: ‘"Don't you think, Madam, (looking towards Johnſon,) that among all your acquaintance you could find one exception?"’ The lady ſmiled, and ſeemed to acquieſce.

‘"I read (ſaid he) Sharpe's letters on Italy over again when I was at Bath. There is a great deal of matter in them."’

‘"Mrs. Williams was angry that Thrale's family did not ſend regularly to her every time they heard from me while I was in the Hebrides. Little people are apt to be jealous: but they ſhould not be jealous; for they ought to conſider, that ſuperiour attention will neceſſarily be paid to ſuperiour fortune or rank. Two perſons may have equal merit, and on that account may have an equal claim to attention; but one of them may have alſo fortune and rank, and ſo may have a double claim."’

Talking of his notes on Shakſpeare, he ſaid, ‘"I deſpiſe thoſe who do not ſee that I am right in the paſſage where as is repeated, and 'aſſes of great charge' introduced. That on 'To be, or not to be,' is diſputable ⁷."’

A gentleman, whom I found ſitting with him one morning, ſaid, that in his opinion the character of an infidel was more deteſtable than that of a man notoriouſly guilty of an atrocious crime. I differed from him, becauſe we are ſurer of the odiouſneſs of the one, than of the errour of the other. JOHNSON. ‘"Sir, I agree with him; for the infidel would be guilty of any crime if he were inclined to it."’

‘"Many things which are falſe are tranſmitted from book to book, and gain credit in the world. One of theſe is the cry againſt the evil of luxury. Now the truth is, that luxury produces much good. Take the luxury of building in London. Does it not produce real advantage in the conveniency and elegance of accommodation, and this all from the exertion of induſtry? People will tell you, with a melancholy face, how many builders are in gaol. It is plain they are in gaol, not for building; for rents are not fallen.—A man gives half a guinea for a diſh of green peas. How much gardening does this occaſion? how many labourers muſt the competition to have ſuch things [73] early in the market, keep in employment? You will hear it ſaid, very gravely, 'Why was not the half-guinea, thus ſpent in luxury, given to the poor? To how many might it have afforded a good meal?' Alas! has it not gone to the induſtrious poor, whom it is better to ſupport than the idle poor? You are much ſurer that you are doing good when you pay money to thoſe who work, as the recompence of their labour, than when you give money merely in charity. Suppoſe the ancient luxury of a diſh of peacock's brains were to be revived; how many carcaſes would be left to the poor at a cheap rate? And as to the rout that is made about people who are ruined by extravagance, it is no matter to the nation that ſome individuals ſuffer. When ſo much general productive exertion is the conſequence of luxury, the nation does not care though there are debtors in gaol; nay, they would not care though their creditors were there too."’

The uncommon vivacity of General Oglethorpe's mind, and variety of know⯑ledge, having ſometimes made his converſation ſeem too deſultory, Johnſon obſerved, ‘"Oglethorpe, Sir, never completes what he has to ſay."’

When I complained of having dined at a ſplendid table without hearing one ſentence of converſation worthy of being remembered, he ſaid, ‘"Sir, there ſeldom is any ſuch converſation."’ BOSWELL. ‘"Why then meet at table?"’ JOHNSON. ‘"Why to eat and drink together, and promote kind⯑neſs; and, Sir, this is better done when there is no ſolid converſation; for when there is, people differ in opinion, and get into bad humour, or ſome of the company who are not capable of ſuch converſation, are left out, and feel themſelves uneaſy. It was for this reaſon, Sir Robert Walpole ſaid, he always talked bawdy at his table, becauſe in that all could join."’

Being irritated by hearing a gentleman aſk Mr. Levett a variety of queſtions concerning him, when he was ſitting by, he broke out, ‘"Sir, you have but two topicks, yourſelf and me. I am ſick of both."’—‘"A man (ſaid he) ſhould not talk of himſelf, nor much of any particular perſon. He ſhould take care not to be made a proverb; and, therefore, ſhould avoid having any one topick of which people can ſay, 'We ſhall hear him upon it.' There was a Dr. Oldfield, who was always talking of the Duke of Marlborough. He came into a coffee-houſe one day, and told that his Grace had ſpoken in the Houſe of Lords for half an hour. 'Did he indeed ſpeak for half an hour?' (ſaid Belchier, the ſurgeon.)—'Yes.'—'And what did he ſay of Dr. Oldfield?'—'Nothing.'—'Why then, Sir, he was very ungrateful; for Dr. Oldfield could not have ſpoken for a quarter of an hour without ſaying ſome⯑thing of him."’

[74] ‘"Every man is to take exiſtence on the terms on which it is given to him. To ſome men it is given on condition of not taking liberties, which other men may take without much harm. One man may drink wine and be nothing the worſe for it; on another wine may have effects ſo inflammatory as to injure him both in body and mind, and perhaps make him commit ſomething for which he may deſerve to be hanged."’

‘"Lord Hailes's 'Annals of Scotland' have not that pointed form which is the taſte of this age; but it is a book which will always ſell, it has ſuch a ſtability of dates, ſuch a certainty of facts, and ſuch a punctuality of citation. I never before read Scotch hiſtory with certainty."’

I aſked him whether he would adviſe me to read the Bible with a com⯑mentary, and what commentaries he would recommend. JOHNSON. ‘"To be ſure, Sir, I would have you read the Bible with a commentary; and I would recommend Lowth and Patrick on the Old Teſtament, and Hammond on the New."’

During my ſtay in London this ſpring, I ſolicited his attention to another law caſe, in which I was engaged. In the courſe of a conteſted election for the borough of Dunfermline, which I attended, as one of my friend Colonel (now Sir Archibald) Campbell's counſel, a man, one of his political agents, who was charged with having been unfaithful to his employer, and having deſerted to the oppoſite party for a pecuniary reward—attacked very rudely in a newſpaper the Reverend Mr. James Thomſon, one of the miniſters of that place, on account of a ſuppoſed alluſion to him in one of his ſermons. Upon this the miniſter, on a ſubſequent Sunday, arraigned him by name from the pulpit with ſome ſeverity; and the agent, after the ſermon was over, roſe up and aſked the miniſter aloud, ‘"What bribe he had received for telling ſo many lies from the chair of veracity."’ I was preſent at this very extraordinary ſcene. The perſon arraigned, and his father and brother, who had alſo had a ſhare both of the reproof from the pulpit, and in the retalia⯑tion, brought an action againſt Mr. Thomſon, in the Court of Seſſion, for defamation and damages, and I was one of the counſel for the reverend defendant. The Liberty of the Pulpit was our great ground of defence; but we argued alſo on the provocation of the previous attack, and on the inſtant retaliation. The Court of Seſſion, however, the fifteen Judges, who are at the ſame time the jury, decided againſt the miniſter, contrary to my humble opinion; and ſeveral of them expreſſed themſelves with indignation againſt him. He was an aged gentleman, formerly a military chaplain, and a man of high ſpirit and honour. Johnſon was ſatisfied that the judgement [75] was wrong, and dictated to me the following argument in confutation of it:

When I read this to Mr. Burke, he was highly pleaſed, and exclaimed, ‘"Well, he does his work in a workman-like manner ⁸."’

Mr. Thomſon wiſhed to bring the cauſe by appeal before the Houſe of Lords, but was diſſuaded by the advice of the noble perſon who now preſides ſo ably in that Moſt Honourable Houſe, and who was then Attorney-General. As my readers will no doubt be glad alſo to read the opinion of this eminent man upon the ſame ſubject, I ſhall here inſert it.

I am now to record a very curious incident in Dr. Johnſon's Life, which fell under my own obſervation; of which pars magna fui, and which I am per⯑ſuaded will, with the liberal-minded, be much to his credit.

My deſire of being acquainted with celebrated men of every deſcription, had made me, much about the ſame time, obtain an introduction to Dr. Samuel Johnſon and to John Wilkes, Eſq. Two men more different could perhaps not be ſelected out from all mankind. They had even attacked one another with ſome aſperity in their writings; yet I lived in habits of friendſhip with both. I could fully reliſh the excellence of each; for I have ever delighted in that intellectual chymiſtry which can ſeparate good qualities from evil in the ſame perſon.

Sir John Pringle, ‘"mine own friend and my Father's friend,"’ between whom and Dr. Johnſon I in vain wiſhed to eſtabliſh an acquaintance, as I reſpected and lived in intimacy with both of them, obſerved to me once, very ingeniouſly, ‘"It is not in friendſhip as in mathematicks, where two things, each equal to a third, are equal between themſelves. You agree with Johnſon as a middle quality, and you agree with me as a middle quality; but Johnſon and I ſhould not agree."’ Sir John was not ſufficiently flexible; ſo I deſiſted; knowing, indeed, that the repulſion was equally ſtrong on the part of Johnſon; who, I know not from what cauſe, unleſs his being a Scotchman, had formed a very erroneous opinion of Sir John. But I conceived an irreſiſtible wiſh, if poſſible, to bring Dr. Johnſon and Mr. Wilkes together. How to manage it, was a nice and difficult matter.

My worthy bookſellers and friends, Meſſieurs Dillys in the Poultry, at whoſe hoſpitable and well-covered table I have ſeen a greater number of literary men than at any other, except that of Sir Joſhua Reynolds, had invited me to meet Mr. Wilkes and ſome more gentlemen on Wedneſday, May 15. ‘"Pray (ſaid I,) let us have Dr. Johnſon."’—‘"What, with Mr. Wilkes? not for the world, (ſaid Mr. Edward Dilly): Dr. Johnſon would never forgive me."’—‘"Come, (ſaid I,) if you'll let me negociate for you, I will be anſwerable [81] that all ſhall go well."’ DILLY. ‘"Nay, if you will take it upon you, I am ſure I ſhall be very happy to ſee them both here."’

Notwithſtanding the high veneration which I entertained for Dr. Johnſon, I was ſenſible that he was ſometimes a little actuated by the ſpirit of contradic⯑tion, and by means of that I hoped I ſhould gain my point. I was perſuaded that if I had come upon him with a direct propoſal, ‘"Sir, will you dine in company with Jack Wilkes?"’ he would have flown into a paſſion, and would probably have anſwered, ‘"Dine with Jack Wilkes, Sir! I'd as ſoon dine with Jack Ketch²³."’ I therefore, while we were ſitting quietly by ourſelves at his houſe in an evening, took occaſion to open my plan thus:—‘"Mr. Dilly, Sir, ſends his reſpectful compliments to you, and would be happy if you would do him the honour to dine with him on Wedneſday next along with me, as I muſt ſoon go to Scotland."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Sir, I am obliged to Mr. Dilly. I will wait upon him—"’ BOSWELL. ‘"Provided, Sir, I ſuppoſe, that the company which he is to have is agreeable to you."’ JOHNSON. ‘"What do you mean, Sir? What do you take me for? Do you think I am ſo ignorant of the world, as to imagine that I am to preſcribe to a gentleman what company he is to have at his table?"’ BOSWELL. ‘"I beg your pardon, Sir, for wiſhing to prevent you from meeting people whom you might not like. Perhaps he may have ſome of what he calls his patriotick friends with him."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Well, Sir, and what then? What care I for his patriotick friends? Poh!"’ BOSWELL. ‘"I ſhould not be ſurprized to find Jack Wilkes there."’ JOHNSON. ‘"And if Jack Wilkes ſhould be there, what is that to me, Sir? My dear friend, let us have no more of this. I am ſorry to be angry with you; but really it is treating me ſtrangely to talk to me as if I could not meet any company whatever, occaſionally."’ BOSWELL. ‘"Pray forgive me, Sir: I meant well. But you ſhall meet whoever comes, for me."’ Thus I ſecured him, and told Dilly that he would find him very well pleaſed to be one of his gueſts on the day appointed.

Upon the much-expected Wedneſday, I called on him about half an hour before dinner, as I often did when we were to dine out together, to ſee that he was ready in time, and to accompany him. I found him buffeting his books, as upon a former occaſion ^{1 24}, covered with duſt, and making no preparation for going abroad. ‘"How is this, Sir? (ſaid I). Don't you recollect that you are to dine at Mr. Dilly's?"’ JOHNSON. ‘"Sir, I did not [82] think of going to Dilly's: it went out of my head. I have ordered dinner at home with Mrs. Williams."’ BOSWELL. ‘"But, my dear Sir, you know you were engaged to Mr. Dilly, and I told him ſo. He will expect you, and will be much diſappointed if you don't come."’ JOHNSON. ‘"You muſt talk to Mrs. Williams about this."’

Here was a ſad dilemma. I feared that what I was ſo confident I had ſecured would yet be fruſtrated. He had accuſtomed himſelf to ſhew Mrs. Williams ſuch a degree of humane attention, as frequently impoſed ſome reſtraint upon him; and I knew that if ſhe ſhould be obſtinate, he would not ſtir. I haſtened down ſtairs to the blind lady's room, and told her I was in great uneaſineſs, for Dr. Johnſon had engaged to me to dine this day at Mr. Dilly's, but that he had told me he had forgotten his engagement, and had ordered dinner at home. ‘"Yes, Sir, (ſaid ſhe, pretty peeviſhly,) Dr. Johnſon is to dine at home."’—‘"Madam, (ſaid I,) his reſpect for you is ſuch, that I know he will not leave you unleſs you abſolutely deſire it. But as you have ſo much of his company, I hope you will be good enough to forego it for a day, as Mr. Dilly is a very worthy man, has frequently had agreeable parties at his houſe for Dr. Johnſon, and will be vexed if the Doctor neglects him to-day. And then, Madam, be pleaſed to conſider my ſituation;—I carried the meſſage, and I aſſured Mr. Dilly that Dr. Johnſon was to come, and no doubt he has made a dinner, and invited a company, and boaſted of the honour he expected to have. I ſhall be quite diſgraced if the Doctor is not there."’ She gradually ſoftened to my ſolicitations, which were certainly as earneſt as moſt entreaties to ladies upon any occaſion, and was graciouſly pleaſed to empower me to tell Dr. Johnſon, ‘"That all things conſidered, ſhe thought he ſhould certainly go."’ I flew back to him, ſtill in duſt, and careleſs of what ſhould be the event, ‘"indifferent in his choice to go or ſtay;"’ but as ſoon as I had announced to him Mrs. Williams's conſent, he roared, ‘"Frank, a clean ſhirt,"’ and was very ſoon dreſt. When I had him fairly ſeated in a hackney-coach with me, I exulted as much as a ſortune-hunter who has got an heireſs into a poſt-chaiſe with him to ſet out for Gretna-Green.

When we entered Mr. Dilly's drawing-room, he found himſelf in the midſt of a company he did not know. I kept myſelf ſnug and ſilent, watching how he would conduct himſelf. I obſerved him whiſpering to Mr. Dilly, ‘"Who is that gentleman, Sir?"’—‘"Mr. Arthur Lee."’—JOHNSON. ‘"Tut, tut, tut,"’ (under his breath,) which was one of his habitual mutterings. Mr. Arthur Lee could not but be very obnoxious to Johnſon, for he was not only a patriot but an American. He was afterwards miniſter from the United States at the court [83] of Madrid. ‘"And who is the gentleman in lace?"’—‘"Mr. Wilkes, Sir."’ This information confounded him ſtill more; he had ſome difficulty to reſtrain himſelf, and taking up a book, ſat down upon a window-ſeat and read, or at leaſt kept his eye upon it intently for ſome time, till he com⯑poſed himſelf. His feelings, I dare ſay, were aukward enough. But he no doubt recollected his having rated me for ſuppoſing that he could be at all diſconcerted by any company, and he, therefore, reſolutely ſet himſelf to behave quite as an eaſy man of the world, who could adapt himſelf at once to the diſpoſition and manners of thoſe whom he might chance to meet.

The cheering ſound of ‘"Dinner is upon the table,"’ diſſolved his reverie, and we all ſat down without any ſymptom of ill humour. There were preſent, beſides Mr. Wilkes, and Mr. Arthur Lee, who was an old companion of mine when he ſtudied phyſick at Edinburgh, Mr. (now Sir John) Miller, Dr. Lettſom, and Mr. Slater the druggiſt. Mr. Wilkes placed himſelf next to Dr. Johnſon, and behaved to him with ſo much attention and politeneſs, that he gained upon him inſenſibly. No man eat more heartily than Johnſon, or loved better what was nice and delicate. Mr. Wilkes was very aſſiduous in helping him to ſome fine veal. ‘"Pray give me leave, Sir:—It is better here—A little of the brown—Some fat, Sir—A little of the ſtuffing—Some gravy—Let me have the pleaſure of giving you ſome butter—Allow me to recommend a ſqueeze of this orange—or the lemon, perhaps, may have more zeſt."’—‘"Sir, Sir, I am obliged to you, Sir,"’ cried Johnſon, bowing, and turning his head to him with a look for ſome time of ‘"ſurly virtue ²,"’ but, in a ſhort while, of complacency.

Foote being mentioned, Johnſon ſaid, ‘"He is not a good mimick."’ One of the company added, ‘"A merry Andrew, a buffoon."’ JOHNSON. ‘"But he has wit too, and is not deficient in ideas, or in fertility and variety of imagery, and not empty of reading; he has knowledge enough to fill up his part. One ſpecies of wit he has in an eminent degree, that of eſcape. You drive him into a corner with both hands; but he's gone, Sir, when you think you have got him—like an animal that jumps over your head. Then he has a great range for his wit; he never lets truth ſtand between him and a jeſt, and he is ſometimes mighty coarſe. Garrick is under many reſtraints from which Foote is free."’ WILKES. ‘"Garrick's wit is more like Lord Cheſterfield's."’ JOHNSON. ‘"The firſt time I was in company with Foote was at Fitzherbert's. Having no good opinion of the fellow, I was reſolved not to be pleaſed, and it is very difficult to pleaſe a man againſt his will. I went [84] on eating my dinner pretty ſullenly, affecting not to mind him. But the dog was ſo very comical, that I was obliged to lay down my knife and fork, throw myſelf back upon my chair, and fairly laugh it out. No, Sir, he was irreſiſtible ³.’ He upon one occaſion experienced, in an extraordinary degree, the efficacy of his powers of entertaining. Amongſt the many and various modes which he tried of getting money, he became a partner with a ſmall-beer brewer, and he was to have a ſhare of the profits for procuring cuſtomers amongſt his numerous acquaintance. Fitzherbert was one who took his ſmall-beer; but it was ſo bad that the ſervants reſolved not to drink it. They were at ſome loſs how to notify their reſolution, being afraid of offending their maſter, who they knew liked Foote much as a companion. At laſt they fixed upon a little black boy, who was rather a favourite, to be their deputy, and deliver their remonſtrance; and having inveſted him with the whole authority of the kitchen, he was to inform Mr. Fitzherbert, in all their names, upon a certain day, that they would drink Foote's ſmall-beer no longer. On that day Foote happened to dine at Fitzherbert's, and this boy ſerved at table; he was ſo delighted with Foote's ſtories, and merriment, and grimace, that when he went down ſtairs, he told them, ‘"This is the fineſt man I have ever ſeen. I will not deliver your meſſage. I will drink his ſmall-beer."’

Somebody obſerved that Garrick could not have done this. WILKES. ‘"Garrick would have made the ſmall-beer ſtill ſmaller. He is now leaving the ſtage, but he will play Scrub all his life."’ I knew that Johnſon would let nobody attack Garrick but himſelf, as Garrick once ſaid to me, and I had heard him praiſe his liberality; ſo to bring out his commendation of his celebrated pupil, I ſaid, loudly, ‘"I have heard Garrick is liberal."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Yes, Sir, I know that Garrick has given away more money than any man in England that I am acquainted with, and that not from oſtentatious views. Garrick was very poor when he began life; ſo when he came to have money, he probably was very unſkilful in giving away, and ſaved when he ſhould not. But Garrick began to be liberal as ſoon as he could; and I am of opinion, the reputation of avarice which he has had, has been very lucky for him, and prevented his having many enemies. You deſpiſe a man for avarice, but do not hate him. Garrick might have been much better attacked for living with more ſplendour than is ſuitable to a player: if they had had the wit to have aſſaulted him in that quarter, they might have galled him more. But [85] they have kept clamouring about his avarice, which has reſcued him from much obloquy and envy."’

Talking of the great difficulty of obtaining authentick information for biography, Johnſon told us, ‘"When I was a young fellow I wanted to write the 'Life of Dryden,' and in order to get materials, I applied to the only two perſons then alive who had ſeen him; theſe were old Swiney, and old Cibber. Swiney's information was no more than this, 'That at Will's coffee⯑houſe Dryden had a particular chair for himſelf, which was ſet by the fire in winter, and was then called his winter-chair; and that it was carried out for him to the balcony in ſummer, and was then called his ſummer-chair.' Cibber could tell no more but 'That he remembered him a decent old man, arbiter of critical diſputes at Will's.' You are to conſider that Cibber was then at a great diſtance from Dryden, had perhaps one leg only in the room, and durſt not draw in the other."’ BOSWELL. ‘"Yet Cibber was a man of obſerva⯑tion?"’ JOHNSON. ‘"I think not."’ BOSWELL. ‘"You will allow his 'Apology' to be well done."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Very well done, to be ſure, Sir. That book is a ſtriking proof of the juſtice of Pope's remark: 'Each might his ſeveral province well command, 'Would all but ſtoop to what they underſtand."’ BOSWELL. ‘"And his plays are good."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Yes; but that was his trade; l'eſprit du corps; he had been all his life among players and play⯑writers. I wondered that he had ſo little to ſay in converſation, for he had kept the beſt company, and learnt all that can be got by the ear. He abuſed Pindar to me, and then ſhewed me an Ode of his own, with an abſurd coupler, making a linnet ſoar on an eagle's wing ⁴. I told him that when the ancients made a ſimile, they always made it like ſomething real."’

Mr. Wilkes remarked, that ‘"among all the bold ſlights of Shakſpeare's imagination, the boldeſt was making Birnam-wood march to Dunſinane; creating a wood where there never was a ſhrub; a wood in Scotland! ha! ha! ha!"’ And he alſo obſerved, that ‘"the clanniſh ſlavery of the Highlands of Scotland was the ſingle exception to Milton's remark of 'The Mountain Nymph, ſweet Liberty,' being worſhipped in all hilly countries."’—‘"When I was at Inverary (ſaid he,) on a viſit to my old friend, Archibald, Duke of Argyle, his dependents congratulated me on being ſuch a favourite of his Grace. I ſaid, 'It is then, gentlemen, truly lucky for me; for if I had [86] diſpleaſed the Duke, and he had wiſhed it, there is not a Campbell among you but would have been ready to bring John Wilkes's head to him in a charger. It would have been only 'Off with his head! So much for Ayleſbury.' I was then member for Ayleſbury."’

Dr. Johnſon and Mr. Wilkes talked of the conteſted paſſage in Horace's ‘"Art of Poetry,"’ ‘"Difficile eſt propriè communia dicere."’ Mr. Wilkes, according to my note, gave the interpretation thus: ‘"It is difficult to ſpeak with propriety of common things; as, if a poet had to ſpeak of Queen Caroline drinking tea, he muſt endeavour to avoid the vulgarity of cups and ſaucers."’ But upon reading my note, he tells me that he meant to ſay, that ‘"the word communia, being a Roman law term, ſignifies here things communis juris, that is to ſay, what have never yet been treated by any body; and this appears clearly from what followed, '—Tuque'Rectiùs Iliacum carmen deducis in actus,'Quàm ſi proferres ignota indictaque primus."’

You will eaſier make a tragedy out of the Iliad than on any ſubject not handled before ⁵. JOHNSON. ‘"He means that it is difficult to appropriate [87] to particular perſons qualities which are common to all mankind, as Homer has done."’

[88] WILKES. ‘"We have no City-Poet now; that is an office which has gone into diſuſe. The laſt was Elkanah Settle. There is ſomething in names which one cannot help feeling. Now Elkanah Settle ſounds ſo queer, who can expect much from that name? We ſhould have no heſitation to give it for John Dryden, in preference to Elkanah Settle, from the names only, without knowing their different merits."’ JOHNSON. ‘"I ſuppoſe, Sir, Settle did as well for Aldermen in his time, as John Home could do now. Where did Beckford and T [...]ecothick learn Engliſh?"’

Mr. Arthur Lee mentioned ſome Scotch who had taken poſſeſſion of a barren part of America, and wondered why they ſhould chooſe it. JOHNSON. ‘"Why, Sir, all barrenneſs is comparative. The Scotch would not know it to be barren."’ BOSWELL. ‘"Come, come, he is flattering the Engliſh. You have now been in Scotland, Sir, and ſay if you did not ſee meat and drink enough there."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Why yes, Sir; meat and drink enough to give the inhabitants ſufficient ſtrength to run away from home."’ All theſe quick and lively ſallies were ſaid ſportively, quite in jeſt, and with a ſmile, which ſhowed that he meant only wit. Upon this topick he and Mr. Wilkes could perfectly aſſimilate; here was a bond of union between them, and I was conſcious that as both of them had viſited Caledonia, both were fully ſatisfied of the ſtrange narrow ignorance of thoſe who imagine that it is a land of famine. But they amuſed themſelves with perſevering in the old jokes. When I claimed a ſuperiority for Scotland over Eng⯑land in one reſpect, that no man can be arreſted there for a debt merely becauſe another ſwears it againſt him; but there muſt firſt be the judge⯑ment of a court of law aſcertaining its juſtice; and that a ſeizure of the [89] perſon before judgement is obtained can take place only, if his creditor ſhould ſwear that he is about to fly from the country, or, as it is technically expreſſed, is in meditatione fugae. WILKES. ‘"That, I ſhould think, may be ſafely ſworn of all the Scotch nation."’ JOHNSON. (to Mr. Wilkes) ‘"You muſt know, Sir, I lately took my friend Boſwell and ſhewed him genuine civiliſed life in an Engliſh provincial town. I turned him looſe at Lichfield, my native city, that he might ſee for once real civility: for you know he lives among ſavages in Scotland, and among rakes in London."’ WILKES. ‘"Except when he is with grave, ſober, decent people like you and me."’ JOHNSON. (ſmiling) ‘"And we aſhamed of him."’

They were quite frank and eaſy. Johnſon told the ſtory of his aſking Mrs. Macaulay to allow her footman to ſit down with them, to prove the ridiculouſ⯑neſs of the argument for the equality of mankind; and he ſaid to me afterwards, with a nod of ſatisfaction, ‘"You ſaw Mr. Wilkes acquieſced."’ Wilkes talked with all imaginable freedom of the ludicrous title given to the Attorney-General, Diabolus Regis, adding, ‘"I have reaſon to know ſomething about that officer, for I was proſecuted for a libel."’ Johnſon, who many people would have ſuppoſed muſt have been furiouſly angry at hearing this talked of ſo lightly, ſaid not a word. He was now, indeed, ‘"a good-humoured fellow."’

After dinner we had an acceſſion of Mrs. Knowles, the Quaker lady, well known for her various talents, and of Mr. Alderman Lee. Amidſt ſome patriotick groans, ſomebody (I think the Alderman) ſaid, ‘"Poor Old England is loſt."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Sir, it is not ſo much to be lamented that Old Eng⯑land is loſt, as that the Scotch have found it ⁶."’ WILKES. ‘"Had Lord Bute governed Scotland only, I ſhould not have taken the trouble to write his eulogy, and dedicate 'MORTIMER' to him."’

Mr. Wilkes held a candle to ſhew a fine print of a beautiful female figure which hung in the room, and pointed out the elegant contour of the boſom with the finger of an arch connoiſſeur. He afterwards waggiſhly inſiſted with me, that all the time Johnſon ſhewed viſible ſigns of a ſervant admiration of the correſponding charms of the fair Quaker.

This record, though by no means ſo perfect as I could wiſh, will ſerve to give a notion of a very curious interview, which was not only pleaſing at the time, but had the agreeable and benignant effect of reconciling any [90] animoſity, and ſweetening any acidity, which in the various buſtle of political conteſt, had been produced in the minds of two men, who though widely different, had ſo many things in common—claſſical learning, modern litera⯑ture, wit, and humour, and ready repartee—that it would have been much to be regretted if they had been for ever at a diſtance from each other.

Mr. Burke gave me much credit for this ſucceſsful negociation; and pleaſantly ſaid, that ‘"there was nothing to equal it in the whole hiſtory of the Corps Diplomatique."’

I attended Dr. Johnſon home, and had the ſatisfaction to hear him tell Mrs. Williams how much he had been pleaſed with Mr. Wilkes's company, and what an agreeable day he had paſſed.

I talked a good deal to him of the celebrated Margaret Caroline Rudd, whom I had viſited, induced by the fame of her talents, addreſs, and irreſiſtible power of faſcination. To a lady who diſapproved of my viſiting her, he ſaid on a former occaſion, ‘"Nay, Madam, Boſwell is in the right; I ſhould have viſited her myſelf, were it not that they have now a trick of putting every thing into the newſpapers."’ This evening he exclaimed, ‘"I envy him his acquaintance with Mrs. Rudd."’

I mentioned a ſcheme which I had of making a [...]our to the Iſle of Man, and giving a full account of it; and that Mr. Burk [...] [...]ad playfully ſuggeſted as a motto,

JOHNSON. ‘"Sir, you will get more by the book th [...] the jaunt will coſt you; ſo you will have your diverſion for nothing, and add [...] your reputation."’

On the evening of the next day I took leave of him▪ being to ſet out for Scotland. I thanked him with great warmth for all his kindneſs. ‘"Sir, (ſaid he,) you are very welcome. Nobody repays it with more."’

How very falſe is the notion which has gone round the world of the rough, and paſſionate, and harſh manners of this great and good man. That he had occaſional ſallies of heat of temper, and that he was ſometimes, perhaps, too ‘"eaſily provoked"’ by abſurdity and folly, and ſometimes too deſirous of triumph in colloquial conteſt, muſt be allowed. The quickneſs both of his perception and ſenſibility diſpoſed him to ſudden exploſions of ſatire; to which his extraordinary readineſs of wit was a ſtrong and almoſt irreſiſtible incitement. To adopt one of the fineſt images in Mr. Home's ‘"Douglas,"’

I admit that the beadle within him was often ſo eager to apply the laſh, that the Judge had not time to conſider the caſe with ſufficient deliberation.

That he was occaſionally remarkable for violence of temper may be granted: but let us aſcertain the degree, and not let it be ſuppoſed that he was in a perpetual rage, and never without a club in his hand, to knock down every one who approached him. On the contrary, the truth is, that by much the greateſt part of his time he was civil, obliging, nay, polite in the true ſenſe of the word; ſo much ſo, that many gentlemen, who were long acquainted with him, never received, or even heard a ſevere expreſſion from him.

It was, I think, after I had left London this year, that an Epitaph, which Dr. Johnſon had written for the monument of Dr. Goldſmith in Weſt⯑minſter-Abbey, gave occaſion to a Remonſtrance to the MONARCH OF LITERATURE, for an account of which I am indebted to Sir William Forbes, of Pitſligo.

That my readers may have the ſubject more fully and clearly before them▪ I ſhall firſt inſert the Epitaph.

Sir William Forbes writes to me thus:—

My readers are preſented with a faithful tranſcript of a paper, which I doubt not of their being deſirous to ſee.

[93]Sir William Forbes's obſervation is very juſt. The anecdote now related proves, in the ſtrongeſt manner, the reverence and awe with which Johnſon was regarded, by ſome of the moſt eminent men of his time in various departments, and even by ſuch of them as lived moſt with him; while it alſo confirms what I have again and again inculcated, that he was by no means of that ferocious and iraſcible character which has been ignorantly imagined.

This haſty compoſition is alſo to be remarked as one of a thouſand inſtances which evince the extraordinary promptitude of Mr. Burke; who while he is equal to the greateſt things, can adorn the leaſt; can, with equal facility, embrace the vaſt and complicated ſpeculations of politicks, or the ingenious topicks of literary inveſtigation.

Beſides this Latin Epitaph, Johnſon honoured the memory of his friend Goldſmith with a ſhort one in Greek, which has been obligingly communicated to me by my learned and ingenious friend Dr. Percy, the Biſhop of Dromore. His Lordſhip procured it from a gentleman in Ireland, who had it from Johnſon himſelf, Mr. Archdall, who was educated under Dr. Sumner, at Harrow.

As the evidence of what I have mentioned at the beginning of this year, I ſelect from his private regiſter the following paſſage:

‘"July 25, 1776. O GOD, who haſt ordained that whatever is to be deſired ſhould be ſought by labour, and who, by thy bleſſing, bringeſt honeſt labour to good effect, look with mercy upon my ſtudies and endeavours. Grant me, O LORD, to deſign only what is lawful and right; and afford me calmneſs of mind, and ſteadineſs of purpoſe, that I may ſo do thy will in this ſhort life, as to obtain happineſs in the world to come, for the ſake of JESUS CHRIST our Lord. Amen ³."’

[97] It appears from a note ſubjoined, that this was compoſed when he ‘"purpoſed to apply vigorouſly to ſtudy, particularly of the Greek and Italian tongues."’

Such a purpoſe, ſo expreſſed, at the age of ſixty-ſeven, is admirable and encouraging; and it muſt impreſs all the thinking part of my readers with a conſolatory confidence in habitual devotion, when they ſee a man of ſuch enlarged intellectual powers as Johnſon, thus in the genuine earneſtneſs of ſecrecy, imploring the aid of that Supreme Being, ‘"from whom cometh down every good and every perfect gift."’

I again wrote to Dr. Johnſon on the 21ſt of October, informing him, that my father had, in the moſt liberal manner, paid a large debt for me, and that I had now the happineſs of being upon very good terms with him; to which he returned the following anſwer:

On the 16th of November I informed him that Mr. Strahan had ſent me twelve copies of the ‘"Journey to the Weſtern Iſlands,"’ handſomely bound, inſtead of the twenty copies which were ſtipulated, but which, I ſuppoſed, were to be only in ſheets; requeſted to know how they ſhould be diſtributed: and mentioned that I had another ſon born to me, who was named David, and was a ſickly infant.

The Reverend Dr. Hugh Blair, who had long been admired as a preacher at Edinburgh, thought now of diffuſing his excellent ſermons more exten⯑ſively, and encreaſing his reputation, by publiſhing a collection of them. He tranſmitted the manuſcript to Mr. Strahan, the printer, who after keeping it for ſome time, wrote a letter to him, diſcouraging the publication. Such at [101] firſt was the unpropitious ſtate of one of the moſt ſucceſsful theological books that has ever appeared. Mr. Strahan, however, had ſent one of the ſermons to Dr. Johnſon for his opinion; and after his unfavourable letter to Dr. Blair had been ſent off, he received from Johnſon on Chriſtmas-eve, a note in which was the following paragraph:

‘"I have read over Dr. Blair's firſt ſermon with more than approbation; to ſay it is good, is to ſay too little."’

I believe Mr. Strahan had very ſoon after this time a converſation with Dr. Johnſon concerning them, and then he very candidly wrote again to Dr. Blair, encloſing Johnſon's note, and agreeing to purchaſe the volume, for which he and Mr. Cadell gave one hundred pounds. The ſale was ſo rapid and extenſive, and the approbation of the publick ſo high, that to their honour be it recorded, the proprietors made Dr. Blair a preſent firſt of one ſum, and afterwards of another, of fifty pounds, thus voluntarily doubling the ſtipulated price; and when he prepared another volume they gave him at once three hundred pounds, being in all five hundred pounds, by an agreement to which I am a ſubſcribing witneſs; and now for a third octavo volume he has received no leſs than ſix hundred pounds.

In 1777, it appears from his ‘"Prayers and Meditations,"’ that Johnſon ſuffered much from a ſtate of mind ‘"unſettled and perplexed,"’ and from that conſtitutional gloom, which, together with his extreme humility and anxiety with regard to his religious ſtate, made him contemplate himſelf through too dark and unfavourable a medium. It may be ſaid of him, that he ‘"ſaw GOD in clouds."’ Certain we may be of his injuſtice to himſelf in the following lamentable paragraph, which it is painful to think came from the contrite heart of this great man, to whoſe labours the world is ſo much indebted: ‘"When I ſurvey my paſt life, I diſcover nothing but a barren waſte of time, with ſome diſorders of body, and diſturbances of the mind very near to madneſs, which I hope He that made me will ſuffer to extenuate many faults, and excuſe many deficiencies ⁶."’ But we find his devotions in this year eminently ſervent, and we are comforted by obſerving intervals of quiet, compoſure, and gladneſs.

On Eaſter-day we find the following emphatick prayer: ‘"Almighty and moſt merciful Father, who ſeeſt all our miſeries, and knoweſt all our neceſſities, look down upon me, and pity me. Defend me from the violent incurſion of evil thoughts, and enable me to form and keep ſuch reſolutions [102] as may conduce to the diſcharge of the duties which thy providence ſhall appoint me; and ſo help me, by thy Holy Spirit, that my heart may ſurely there be fixed where true joys are to be found, and that I may ſerve Thee with pure affection and a cheerful mind. Have mercy upon me, O GOD, have mercy upon me; years and infirmities oppreſs me, terrour and anxiety beſet me. Have mercy upon me, my Creator and my Judge. In all perplexities relieve and free me; and ſo help me by thy Holy Spirit, that I may now ſo commemorate the death of thy Son our Saviour JESUS CHRIST, as that when this ſhort and painful life ſhall have an end, I may, for his ſake, be received to everlaſting happineſs. Amen ⁷."’

While he was at church the agreeable impreſſions upon his mind are thus commemorated, ‘"I was for ſome time much diſtreſſed, but at laſt obtained, I hope from the GOD of Peace, more quiet than I have enjoyed for a long time. I had made no reſolution, but as my heart grew lighter, my hopes revived, and my courage increaſed; and I wrote with my pencil in my Common Prayer Book,"Vita ordinanda."Biblia legenda."Theologiae opera danda."Serviendum et laetandum."’

Mr. Steevens, whoſe generoſity is well known, joined Dr. Johnſon in kind aſſiſtance to a female relation of Dr. Goldſmith, and deſired that on her return to Ireland ſhe would procure authentick particulars of the life of her celebrated relation. Concerning her there is the following letter:

[109] Mr. Shaw's Propoſals † for ‘"An Analyſis of the Scotch Celtick Language,"’ were thus illuminated by the pen of Johnſon:

To thoſe who delight in tracing the progreſs of works of literature, it will be an entertainment to compare the limited deſign with the ample execution of that admirable performance, ‘"The Lives of the Engliſh Poets,"’ which is the richeſt, moſt beautiful, and indeed moſt perfect production of his pen. His notion of it at this time appears in the preceding letter. He has a memorandum in this year, ‘"29 May, Eaſter-Eve, I treated with bookſellers on a bargain, but the time was not long ³."’ The bargain was concerning that undertaking, but his tender conſcience ſeems alarmed leſt it ſhould have intruded too much on his devout preparation for the ſolemnity of the enſuing day. But, indeed, very little time was neceſſary for Johnſon's concluding a treaty with the Bookſellers; as he had, I believe, leſs attention to profit from his labours than any man to whom literature has been a profeſſion. I ſhall here inſert from a letter to me from my late worthy friend Mr. Edward Dilly, though of a later date, an account of this plan ſo happily conceived; ſince it was the occaſion of procuring for us an elegant collection of the beſt biography and criticiſm of which our language can boaſt.

I ſhall afterwards have occaſion to conſider the extenſive and varied range which Johnſon took, when he was once led upon ground which he trod with a peculiar delight, having long been intimately acquainted with all the circumſtances of it that could intereſt and pleaſe.

Early in this year came out, in two volumes quarto, the poſthumous works of the learned Dr. Zachary Pearce, Biſhop of Rocheſter; being ‘"A Com⯑mentary, with Notes, on the four Evangeliſts and the Acts of the Apoſtles,"’ with other theological pieces. Johnſon had now an opportunity of making a grateful return to that excellent prelate, who, we have ſeen, was the only perſon who gave him any aſſiſtance in the compilation of his Dictionary. The [114] Biſhop had left ſome account of his life and character, written by himſelf. To this Johnſon made ſome valuable additions, † and alſo furniſhed to the editor, the Reverend Mr. Derby, a Dedication, † which I ſhall here inſert, both becauſe it will appear at this time with peculiar propriety; and becauſe it will tend to propagate and increaſe that ‘"fervour of Loyalty,"’ which in me, who boaſt of the name of TORY, is not only a principle but a paſſion.

In the ſummer he wrote a Prologue* which was ſpoken before ‘"A Word to the Wiſe,"’ a comedy by Mr. Hugh Kelly, which had been brought upon the ſtage in 1770; but its deſign being ſuppoſed favourable to the miniſtry, it fell a ſacrifice to popular fury, and, in the playhouſe phraſe, was damned. By the generoſity of Mr. Harris, the proprietor of Covent Garden theatre, it was now exhibited for one night, for the benefit of the authour's widow and children. To conciliate the favour of the audience was the intention of [115] Johnſon's Prologue, which, as it is not long, I ſhall here inſert, as a proof that his poetical talents were in no degree impaired.

A circumſtance which could not fail to be very pleaſing to Johnſon, occurred this year. The Tragedy of ‘"Sir Thomas Overbury,"’ written by his early companion in London, Richard Savage, was brought out with alterations at Drury-lane theatre. The Prologue to it was written by Mr. Richard Brindſley Sheridan; in which, after deſcribing very pathetically the wretched⯑neſs of

[116] he concluded with an elegant compliment to Johnſon on his Dictionary, that wonderful performance which cannot be too often or too highly praiſed; of which Mr. Harris, in his ‘"Philological Inquiries ⁵,"’ juſtly and liberally obſerves, ‘"Such is its merit, that our language does not poſſeſs a more copious, learned, and valuable work."’ The concluding lines of this Prologue were theſe:

Mr. Sheridan here at once did honour to his taſte and to his liberality of ſentiment, by ſhewing that he was not prejudiced from the unlucky difference which had taken place between his worthy father and Dr. Johnſon. I have already mentioned, that Johnſon was very deſirous of reconciliation with old Mr. Sheridan. It will, therefore, not ſeem at all ſurprizing that he was zealous in acknowledging the brilliant merit of his ſon. While it had as yet been diſplayed only in the drama, Johnſon propoſed him as a member of THE LITERARY CLUB, obſerving, that ‘"He who has written the two beſt comedies of his age, is ſurely a conſiderable man."’ And he had, accordingly, the honour to be elected; for an honour it undoubtedly muſt be allowed to be, when it is conſidered of whom that ſociety conſiſts, and that a ſingle black ball excludes a candidate.

On the 23d of June, I again wrote to Dr. Johnſon, encloſing a ſhip-maſter's receipt for a jar of marmalade of oranges, and a large packet of Lord Hailes's ‘"Annals of Scotland."’

Johnſon's benevolence to the unfortunate was, I am confident, as ſteady and active as that of any of thoſe who have been moſt eminently diſtinguiſhed for that virtue. Innumerable proofs of it I have no doubt will be for ever concealed from mortal eyes. We may, however, form ſome judgement of it, from the many and very various inſtances which have been diſcovered. One which happened in the courſe of this ſummer is remarkable from the name and connection of the perſon who was the object of it. The circum⯑ſtance to which I allude is aſcertained by two letters, one to Mr. Langton, and another to the Reverend Dr. Vyſe, rector of Lambeth, ſon of the reſpectable clergyman at Lichfield, who was contemporary with Johnſon, and in whoſe father's family Johnſon had the happineſs of being kindly received in his early years.

On Sunday evening, September 14, I arrived at Aſhbourne, and drove directly up to Dr. Taylor's door. Dr. Johnſon and he appeared before I had got out of the poſt-chaiſe, and welcomed me cordially.

I told them that I had travelled all the preceding night, and gone to bed at Leek, in Staffordſhire; and that when I roſe to go to church in the after⯑noon, I was informed there had been an earthquake, of which, it ſeems, the ſhock had been felt, in ſome degree, at Aſhbourne. JOHNSON. ‘"Sir, it will be much exaggerated in popular talk: for, in the firſt place, the common people do not accurately adapt their thoughts to the objects; nor, ſecondly, do they accurately adapt their words to their thoughts: they do not mean to lie; but, taking no pains to be exact, they give you very falſe accounts. A great part of their language is proverbial. If any thing rocks at all, they ſay it rocks like a cradle; and in this way they go on."’

The ſubject of grief for the loſs of relations and friends being introduced, I obſerved that it was ſtrange to conſider how ſoon it in general wears away. Dr. Taylor mentioned a gentleman of the neighbourhod as the only inſtance he had ever known of a perſon who had endeavoured to retain grief. He told Dr. Taylor, that after his lady's death, which affected him deeply, he reſolved that the grief, which he cheriſhed with a kind of ſacred fondneſs, ſhould be laſting; but that he found he could not keep it long. JOHNSON. ‘"All grief for what cannot in the courſe of nature be helped, ſoon wears away; in ſome ſooner, indeed, in ſome later; but it never continues very long, unleſs where there is madneſs, ſuch as will make a man have pride ſo fixed in his [133] mind, as to imagine himſelf a King; or any other paſſion in an unreaſonable way: for all unneceſſary grief is unwiſe, and therefore will not be long retained by a ſound mind. If, indeed, the cauſe of our grief is occaſioned by our own miſconduct, if grief is mingled with remorſe of conſcience, it ſhould be laſting."’ BOSWELL. ‘"But, Sir, we do not approve of a man who very ſoon forgets the loſs of a wife or a friend."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Sir, we diſapprove of him, not becauſe he ſoon forgets his grief, for the ſooner it is forgotten the better, but becauſe we ſuppoſe, that if he forgets his wife or his friend ſoon, he has not had much affection for them."’

I was ſomewhat diſappointed in finding that the edition of the Engliſh Poets, ſor which he was to write Prefaces and Lives, was not an undertaking directed by him; but that he was to furniſh a Preface and Life to any poet the bookſellers pleaſed. I aſked him if he would do this to any dunce's works, if they ſhould aſk him. JOHNSON. ‘"Yes, Sir; and ſay he was a dunce."’ My friend ſeemed now not much to reliſh talking of this edition.

On Monday, September 15, Dr. Johnſon obſerved, that every body com⯑mended ſuch parts of his ‘"Journey to the Weſtern Iſlands,"’ as were in their own way. ‘"For inſtance, (ſaid he,) Mr. Jackſon (the all-knowing) told me, there was more good ſenſe upon trade in it, than he ſhould hear in the Houſe of Commons in a year, except from Burke. Jones commended the part which treats of language; Burke that which deſcribes the inhabitants of mountainous countries."’

After breakfaſt, Johnſon carried me to ſee the garden belonging to the ſchool of Aſhbourne, which is very prettily formed upon a bank, riſing gradually behind the houſe. The Reverend Mr. Langley, the head maſter, accompanied us.

While we ſat baſking in the ſun upon a ſeat here, I introduced a common ſubject of complaint, the very ſmall ſalaries which many curates have, and I maintained, ‘"that no man ſhould be inveſted with the character of a clergy⯑man, unleſs he has a ſecurity for ſuch an income as will enable him to appear reſpectable; that, therefore, a clergyman ſhould not be allowed to have a curate, unleſs he gives him a hundred pounds a year; if he cannot do that, let him perform the duty himſelf."’ JOHNSON. ‘"To be ſure, Sir, it is wrong that any clergyman ſhould be without a reaſonable income; but as the church revenues were ſadly diminiſhed at the Reformation, the clergy who have livings cannot afford, in many inſtances, to gi [...] good ſalaries to curates, without leaving themſelves too little; and, if no curate were to be permitted, unleſs he had a hundred pounds a year, their number would be [134] very ſmall, which would be a diſadvantage, as then there would not be ſuch choice in the nurſery for the church, curates being candidates for the higher eccleſiaſtical offices, according to their merit and good behaviour."’ He explained the ſyſtem of the Engliſh Hierarchy exceedingly well. ‘"It is not thought fit (ſaid he) to truſt a man with the care of a pariſh, till he has given proof as a curate that he ſhall deſerve ſuch a truſt."’ This is an excel⯑lent theory; and if the practice were according to it, the Church of England would be admirable indeed. However, as I have heard Dr. Johnſon obſerve as to the Univerſities, bad practice does not infer that the conſtitution is bad.

We had with us at dinner ſeveral of Dr. Taylor's neighbours, good civil gentlemen, who ſeemed to underſtand Dr. Johnſon very well, and not to conſider him in the light that a certain perſon did, who being ſtruck, or rather ſtunned by his voice and manner, when he was afterwards aſked what he thought of him, anſwered, ‘"He's a tremendous companion."’

Johnſon told me, that ‘"Taylor was a very ſenſible acute man, and had a ſtrong mind; that he had great activity in ſome reſpects, and yet ſuch a ſort of indolence, that if you ſhould put a pebble upon his chimney-piece, you would find it there, in the ſame ſtate, a year afterwards."’

And here is the proper place to give an account of Johnſon's humane and zealous interference in behalf of the Reverend Dr. William Dodd, formerly Prebendary of Brecon, and chaplain in ordinary to his Majeſty; celebrated as a very popular preacher, an encourager of charitable inſtitutions, and authour of a variety of works, chiefly theological. Having unhappily con⯑tracted expenſive habits of living, partly occaſioned by licentiouſneſs of manners, he in an evil hour, when preſſed by want of money, and dreading an expoſure of his circumſtances, forged a bond of which he attempted to avail himſelf to ſupport his credit, flattering himſelf with hopes that he might be able to repay its amount without being detected. The perſon, whoſe name he thus raſhly and criminally preſumed to falſify, was the Earl of Cheſterfield, to whom he had been tutor, and who, he perhaps, in the warmth of his feelings, flattered himſelf would have paid the money in caſe of an alarm being taken, rather than ſuffer him to fall a victim to the dreadful conſequences of violating the law againſt forgery, the moſt dangerous crime in a commercial country; but the unfortunate divine had the mortification to find that he was miſtaken. His noble pupil appeared againſt him, and he was capitally convicted.

[135] Johnſon told me that Dr. Dodd was very little acquainted with him, having been but once in his company, many years previous to this period (which was preciſely the ſtate of my own acquaintance with Dodd); but in his diſtreſs he bethought himſelf of Johnſon's perſuaſive power of writing, if haply it might avail to obtain for him the royal mercy. He did not apply to him directly, but, extraordinary as it may ſeem, through the late Counteſs of Harrington, who wrote a letter to Johnſon, aſking him to employ his pen in favour of Dodd. Mr. Allen, the printer, who was Johnſon's landlord and next neighbour in Bolt-court, and for whom he had much kindneſs, was one of Dodd's friends, of whom, to the credit of humanity be it recorded, that he had many who did not deſert him, even after his infringement of the law had reduced him to the ſtate of a man under ſentence of death. Mr. Allen told me that he carried Lady Harrington's letter to Johnſon, that Johnſon read it walking up and down his chamber, and ſeemed much agitated, after which he ſaid ‘"I will do what I can;—"’ and certainly he did make extraordinary exertions.

He this evening, as he had obligingly promiſed in one of his letters, put into my hands the whole ſeries of his writings upon this melancholy occaſion, and I ſhall preſent my readers with the abſtract which I made from the col⯑lection; in doing which I ſtudied to avoid copying what had appeared in print, and now make part of the edition of ‘"Johnſon's Works,"’ publiſhed by the Bookſellers of London, but taking care to mark Johnſon's variations in ſome of the pieces there exhibited.

Dr. Johnſon wrote in the firſt place, Dr. Dodd's ‘"Speech to the Recorder of London,"’ at the Old-Bailey, when ſentence of death was about to be pro⯑nounced upon him.

He wrote alſo ‘"The Convict's Addreſs to his unhappy Bretheren,"’ a ſermon delivered by Dr. Dodd, in the chapel of Newgate. According to Johnſon's manuſcript it began thus after the text, What ſhall I do to be ſaved?—‘"Theſe were the words with which the keeper, to whoſe cuſtody Paul and Silas were committed by their proſecutors, addreſſed his priſoners, when he ſaw them freed from their bonds by the perceptible agency of divine favour, and was, therefore, irreſiſtibly convinced that they were not offenders againſt the laws, but martyrs to the truth."’

Dr. Johnſon was ſo good as to mark for me with his own hand, on a copy of this ſermon which is now in my poſſeſſion, ſuch paſſages as were added by Dr. Dodd. They are not many: Whoever will take the trouble to look at the printed copy and attend to what I mention, will be ſatisfied of this.

[136] There is a ſhort introduction by Dr. Dodd, and he alſo inſerted this ſen⯑tence, ‘"You ſee with what confuſion and diſhonour I now ſtand before you;—no more in the pulpit of inſtruction, but on this humble ſeat with yourſelves."’ The notes are entirely Dodd's own, and Johnſon's writing ends at the words, ‘"the thief whom he pardoned on the croſs."’ What follows was ſupplied by Dr. Dodd himſelf.

The other pieces written by Johnſon in the above mentioned collection, are two letters, one to the Lord Chancellor Bathurſt (not Lord North, as is erroneouſly ſuppoſed) and one to Lord Mansfield;—A Petition from Dr. Dodd to the King;—A Petition from Mrs. Dodd to the Queen;—Ob⯑ſervations of ſome length inſerted in the newſpapers, on occaſion of Earl Percy's having preſented to his Majeſty a petition for mercy to Dodd, ſigned by twenty thouſand people, but all in vain. He told me that he had alſo written a petition from the city of London; ‘"but (ſaid he, with a ſignificant ſmile) they mended it."’

The laſt of theſe articles which Johnſon wrote is ‘"Dr. Dodd's laſt ſolemn Declaration,"’ which he left with the ſheriff at the place of execution. Here alſo my friend marked the variations on a copy of that piece now in my poſſeſſion. Dodd inſerted, ‘"I never knew or attended to the calls of frugality, or the needful minuteneſs of painful oeconomy;"’ and in the next ſentence he in⯑troduced the words which I diſtinguiſh by Italicks, ‘"My life for ſome few unhappy years paſt has been dreadfully erroneous."’ Johnſon's expreſſion was hypocritical; but his remark on the margin is ‘"With this he ſaid he could not charge himſelf."’

Having thus authentically ſettled what part of the ‘"Occaſional Papers,"’ concerning Dr. Dodd's miſerable ſituation, came from the pen of Johnſon, I ſhall proceed to preſent my readers with my record of the unpubliſhed writings relating to that extraordinary and intereſting matter.

I found a letter to Dr. Johnſon from Dr. Dodd, May 23, 1777, in which ‘"The Convict's Addreſs"’ ſeems clearly to be meant:

He added, ‘"May GOD ALMIGHTY bleſs and reward, with his choiceſt comforts, your philanthropick actions, and enable me at all times to expreſs what I feel of the high and uncommon obligations which I owe to the firſt man in our times."’

On Sunday, June 22, he writes, begging Dr. Johnſon's aſſiſtance in framing a ſupplicatory letter to his Majeſty:

‘"If his Majeſty could be moved of his royal clemency to ſpare me and my family the horrours and ignominy of a publick death, which the publick itſelf is ſolicitous to wave, and to grant me in ſome ſilent diſtant corner of the globe, to paſs the remainder of my days in penitence and prayer, I would bleſs his clemency and be humbled."’

This letter was brought to Dr. Johnſon when in church. He ſtooped down and read it, and wrote, when he went home, the following letter for Dr. Dodd to the King:

Subjoined to it was written as follows:

It happened luckily that Mr. Allen was pitched on to aſſiſt in this melan⯑choly office, for he was a great friend of Mr. Akerman, the keeper of Newgate. Dr. Johnſon never went to ſee Dr. Dodd. He ſaid to me, it would have done him more harm, than good to Dodd, who once expreſſed a deſire to ſee him, but not earneſtly.

Dr. Johnſon, on the 20th of June, wrote the following letter:

It has been confidently circulated, with invidious remarks, that to this letter no attention whatever was paid by Mr. Jenkinſon, now Lord Hawkeſbury; and that he did not even deign to ſhew the common civility of owning the receipt of it. I could not but wonder at ſuch conduct in the noble Lord, whoſe own character and juſt elevation in life, I thought, muſt have impreſſed him with all due regard for great abilities and attainments. As the ſtory had been much talked of, and apparently from good authority, I could not but have animadverted upon it in this work, had it been as was alledged; but from my earneſt love of truth, and having found reaſon to think that there might be a miſtake, I preſumed to write to his Lordſhip, requeſting an explanation; and it is with the ſincereſt pleaſure that I am enabled to aſſure the world, that there is no foundation for it, the fact being, that owing to ſome neglect, or accident, Johnſon's letter never came to Lord Hawkeſbury's hands. I ſhould have thought it ſtrange indeed, if that noble Lord had undervalued my illuſtrious friend; but inſtead of this being the caſe, his Lordſhip, in the very polite anſwer with which he was pleaſed immediately to honour me, thus expreſſes himſelf:—‘"I have always reſpected the memory of Dr. Johnſon, and admire his writings; and I frequently read many parts of them with pleaſure and great improve⯑ment."’

All applications for the Royal Mercy having failed, Dr. Dodd prepared himſelf for death; and, with a warmth of gratitude, wrote to Dr. Johnſon as follows:

Dr. Johnſon laſtly wrote to Dr. Dodd this ſolemn and ſoothing letter:

Under the copy of this letter I found written, in Johnſon's own hand, ‘"Next day, June 27, he was executed."’

To conclude this intereſting epiſode with an uſeful application, let us now attend to the reflections of Johnſon at the end of the ‘"Occaſional Papers,"’ concerning the unfortunate Dr. Dodd.—‘"Such were the laſt thoughts of a man whom we have ſeen exulting in popularity, and ſunk in ſhame. For [141] his reputation, which no man can give to himſelf, thoſe who conferred it are to anſwer. Of his publick miniſtry the means of judging were ſufficiently attainable. He muſt be allowed to preach well, whoſe ſermons ſtrike his audience with forcible conviction. Of his life, thoſe who thought it con⯑ſiſtent with his doctrine did not originally form falſe notions. He was at firſt what he endeavoured to make others; but the world broke down his reſolu⯑tion, and he in time ceaſed to exemplify his own inſtructions.’

‘"Let thoſe who are tempted to his faults, tremble at his puniſhment; and thoſe whom he impreſſed from the pulpit with religious ſentiments, endeavour to confirm them by conſidering the regret and ſelf-abhorrence with which he reviewed in priſon his deviations from rectitude."’

Johnſon gave us this evening, in his happy diſcriminative manner, a portrait of the late Mr. Fitzherbert, of Derbyſhire. ‘"There was (ſaid he) no ſparkle, no brilliancy in Fitzherbert; but I never knew a man who was ſo generally acceptable. He made every body quite eaſy, overpowered nobody by the ſuperiority of his talents, made no man think worſe of himſelf by being his rival, ſeemed always to liſten, did not oblige you to hear much from him, and did not oppoſe what you ſaid. Every body liked him; but he had no friend, as I underſtand the word, nobody with whom he exchanged intimate thoughts. People were willing to think well of every thing about him. A gen⯑tleman was making an affected rant, as many people do, of great feelings about 'his dear ſon,' who was at ſchool near London; how anxious he was leſt he might be ill, and what he would give to ſee him. 'Can't you (ſaid Fitzherbert) take a poſt-chaiſe and go to him?' This, to be ſure, finiſhed the affected man, but there was not much in it. However this was circulated as wit for a whole winter, and I believe part of a ſummer too; a proof that he was no very witty man. He was an inſtance of the truth of the obſerva⯑tion, that a man will pleaſe more upon the whole by negative qualities than by poſitive; by never offending, than by giving a great deal of delight. In the firſt place, men hate more ſteadily than they love; and if I have ſaid ſomething to hurt a man once, I ſhall not get the better of this by ſaying many things to pleaſe him."’

Tueſday, September 16, Dr. Johnſon having mentioned to me the extra⯑ordinary ſize and price of ſome cattle reared by Dr. Taylor, I rode out with our hoſt, ſurveyed his farm, and was ſhown one cow which he had ſold for a hundred and twenty guineas, and another for which he had been offered a hundred and thirty. Taylor thus deſcribed to me his old ſchoolfellow and [142] friend, Johnſon: ‘"He is a man of a very clear head, great power of words, and a very gay imagination; but there is no diſputing with him. He will not hear you, and having a louder voice than you, muſt roar you down."’

In the afternoon I tried to get Dr. Johnſon to like the Poems of Mr. Hamilton of Bangour, which I had brought with me: I had been much pleaſed with them at a very early age; the impreſſion ſtill remained on my mind: it was confirmed by the opinion of my friend the Honourable Andrew Erſkine, himſelf both a good poet and a good critick, who thought Hamilton as true a poet as ever wrote, and that his not having fame was unaccountable. Johnſon upon repeated occaſions, while I was at Aſhbourne, talked ſlightingly of Hamilton. He ſaid there was no power of thinking in his verſes, nothing that ſtrikes one, nothing better than what you generally find in magazines; and that the higheſt praiſe they deſerved was, that they were very well for a gen⯑tleman to hand about among his friends. He ſaid the imitation of Ne ſit ancillae tibi amor &c. was too ſolemn; he read part of it at the beginning. He read the beautiful pathetick ſong, ‘"Ah the poor ſhepherd's mournful fate,"’ and did not ſeem to give attention to what I had been uſed to think tender elegant ſtrains, but laughed at the rhyme, in Scotch pronunciation, wiſhes and bluſhes, reading wuſhes—and there he ſtopped. He owned that the epitaph on Lord Newhall was pretty well done. He read the ‘"Inſcription in a Summer-houſe,"’ and a little of the imitations of Horace's Epiſtles; but ſaid, he found nothing to make him deſire to read on. When I urged that there were ſome good poetical paſſages in the book. ‘"Where (ſaid he) will you find ſo large a collection without ſome."’ I thought the deſcription of Winter might obtain his approbation:

He aſked why an ‘"iron chariot;"’ and ſaid ‘"icy chains"’ was an old image. I was ſtruck with the uncertainty of taſte, and ſomewhat ſorry that a poet whom I had long read with fondneſs, was not approved by Dr. Johnſon. I comforted myſelf with thinking that the beauties were too delicate for his robuſt perceptions. Garrick maintained that he had not a taſte for the fineſt productions of genius: but I was ſenſible, that when he took the trouble to analyſe critically, he generally convinced us that he was right.

[143] In the evening, the Reverend Mr. Seward, of Lichfield, who was paſſing through Aſhbourne in his way home, drank tea with us. Johnſon deſcribed him thus:—‘"Sir, his ambition is to be a fine talker; ſo he goes to Buxton, and ſuch places, where he may find companies to liſten to him. And, Sir, he is a valetudinarian, one of thoſe who are always mending themſelves. I do not know a more diſagreeable character than a valetudinarian, who thinks he may do any thing that is for his eaſe, and indulges himſelf in the groſſeſt freedoms: Sir, he brings himſelf to the ſtate of a hog in a ſtye."’

Dr. Taylor's noſe happening to bleed, he ſaid, it was becauſe he had omitted to have himſelf blooded four days after a quarter of a year's interval. Dr. Johnſon, who was a great dabbler in phyſick, diſapproved much of periodical bleeding. ‘"For (ſaid he) you accuſtom yourſelf to an evacuation which Nature cannot perform of herſelf, and therefore ſhe cannot help you, ſhould you, from forgetfulneſs or any other cauſe, omit it; ſo you may be ſuddenly ſuffocated. You may accuſtom yourſelf to other periodical evacuations, becauſe ſhould you omit them, Nature can ſupply the omiſſion; but Nature cannot open a vein to blood you."’—‘"I do not like to take an emetick, (ſaid Taylor,) for fear of breaking ſome ſmall veſſels."’—‘"Poh! (ſaid Johnſon) if you have ſo many things that will break, you had better break your neck at once, and there's an end on't. You will break no ſmall veſſels."’ (blowing with high deriſion).

I mentioned to Dr. Johnſon, that David Hume's perſiſting in his infidelity, when he was dying, ſhocked me much. JOHNSON. ‘"Why ſhould it ſhock you, Sir? Hume owned he had never read the New Teſtament with attention. Here then was a man who had been at no pains to inquire into the truth of religion, and had continually turned his mind the other way. It was not to be expected that the proſpect of death would alter his way of thinking, unleſs GOD ſhould ſend an angel to ſet him right."’ I ſaid, I had reaſon to believe that the thought of annihilation gave Hume no pain. JOHNSON. ‘"It was not ſo, Sir. He had a vanity in being thought eaſy. It is more probable that he ſhould aſſume an appearance of eaſe, than that ſo very improbable a thing ſhould be, as a man not afraid of going (as, in ſpite of his deluſive theory, he cannot be ſure but he may go,) into an unknown ſtate, and not being uneaſy at leaving all he knew. And you are to conſider, that upon his own principle of annihilation he had no motive to ſpeak the truth."’ The horrour of death which I had always obſerved in Dr. Johnſon, appeared ſtrong to-night. I ventured to tell him, that I had been, for moments of my life, not afraid of death; therefore I could ſuppoſe another man in that ſtate of mind for a [144] conſiderable ſpace of time. He ſaid, ‘"he never had a moment in which death was not terrible to him."’ He added, that it had been obſerved, that almoſt no man dies in publick, but with apparent reſolution; from that deſire of praiſe which never quits us. I ſaid, Dr. Dodd ſeemed to be willing to die, and full of hopes of happineſs. ‘"Sir, (ſaid he,) Dr. Dodd would have given both his hands and both his legs to have lived. The better a man is, the more afraid is he of death, having a clearer view of infinite purity."’ He owned, that our being in an unhappy uncertainty as to our ſalvation, was myſterious; and ſaid, ‘"Ah! we muſt wait till we are in another ſtate of being, to have many things explained to us."’ Even the powerful mind of Johnſon ſeemed foiled by futurity. But I thought, that the gloom of uncertainty in ſolemn religious ſpeculation, being mingled with hope, was yet more conſolatory than the emptineſs of infidelity. A man can live in thick air, but periſhes in an exhauſted receiver.

Dr. Johnſon was much pleaſed with a remark which I told him was made to me by General Paoli:—‘"That it is impoſſible not to be afraid of death; and that thoſe who at the time of dying are not afraid, are not thinking of death, but of applauſe, or ſomething elſe, which keeps death out of their ſight: ſo that all men are equally afraid of death when they ſee it; only ſome have a power of turning their ſight away from it better than others."’

On Wedneſday, September 17, Dr. Butter, phyſician at Derby, drank tea with us; and it was ſettled that Dr. Johnſon and I ſhould go on Friday and dine with him. Johnſon ſaid, ‘"I'm glad of this."’ He ſeemed weary of the uniformity of life at Dr. Taylor's.

Talking of biography, I ſaid, in writing a life a man's peculiarities ſhould be mentioned, becauſe they mark his character. JOHNSON. ‘"Sir, there is no doubt as to peculiarities: the queſtion is, whether a man's vices ſhould be men⯑tioned; for inſtance, whether it ſhould be mentioned that Addiſon and Parnel drank too freely: for people will probably more eaſily indulge in drinking from knowing this; ſo that more ill may be done by the example, than good by telling the whole truth."’ Here was an inſtance of his varying from him⯑ſelf in talk; for when Lord Hailes and he ſat one morning calmly converſing in my houſe at Edinburgh, I well remember that Dr. Johnſon maintained, that ‘"if a man is to write A Panegyrick, he may keep vices out of ſight; but if he profeſſes to write A Life, he muſt repreſent it really as it was:"’ and when I objected to the danger of telling that Parnel drank to exceſs, he ſaid, that ‘"it would produce an inſtructive caution to avoid drinking, when it was ſeen, that even the learning and genius of Parnel could be debaſed by it."’ And [145] in the Hebrides he maintained, as appears from my ‘"Journal ⁵,"’ that a man's intimate friend ſhould mention his faults, if he writes his life.

He had this evening, partly, I ſuppoſe, from the ſpirit of contradiction to his Whig friend, a violent argument with Dr. Taylor, as to the inclinations of the people of England at this time towards the Royal Family of Stuart. He grew ſo outrageous as to ſay, ‘"that, if England were fairly polled, the preſent King would be ſent away to-night, and his adherents hanged to-morrow."’ Taylor, who was as violent a Whig as Johnſon was a Tory, was rouſed by this to a pitch of bellowing. He denied, loudly, what Johnſon ſaid; and maintained, that there was an abhorrence againſt the Stuart family, though he admitted that the people were not much attached to the preſent King ⁶. JOHNSON. ‘"Sir, the ſtate of the country is this: the people knowing it to be agreed on all hands that this King has not the hereditary right to the crown, and there being no hope that he who has it can be reſtored, have grown cold and indifferent upon the ſubject of loyalty, and have no warm attachment to any King. They would not, therefore, riſk any thing to reſtore the exiled family. They would not give twenty ſhillings a piece to bring it about. But, if a mere vote could do it, there would be twenty to one; at leaſt, there would be a very great majority of voices for it. For, Sir, you are to conſider, that all thoſe who think a King has a right to his crown, as a man has to his eſtate, which is the juſt opinion, would be for reſtoring the King who certainly has the hereditary right, could he be truſted with it; in which there would be no danger now, when laws and every thing elſe are ſo much advanced; and every King will govern by the laws. And you muſt alſo conſider, Sir, that there is nothing on the other ſide to oppoſe to this; for it is not alledged by any one that the preſent family has any inherent right: ſo that the Whigs could not have a conteſt between two rights."’

Dr. Taylor admitted, that if the queſtion as to hereditary right were to be tried by a poll of the people of England, to be ſure the abſtract doctrine would be given in favour of the family of Stuart; but he ſaid, the conduct of that family, which occaſioned their expulſion, was ſo freſh in the minds of the people, that they would not vote for a reſtoration. Dr. Johnſon, I think, [146] was contented with the admiſſion as to the hereditary right, leaving the original point in diſpute, viz. what the people upon the whole would do, taking in right and affection; for he ſaid, people were afraid of a change, even when they thought it right. Dr. Taylor ſaid ſomething of the ſlight foundation of the here⯑ditary right of the houſe of Stuart. ‘"Sir, (ſaid Johnſon,) the houſe of Stuart ſucceeded to the full right of both the houſes of York and Lancaſter, whoſe common ſource had the undiſputed right. A right to a throne is like a right to any thing elſe. Poſſeſſion is ſufficient, where no better right can be ſhewn. This was the caſe with the Royal Family of England, as it is now with the King of France: for as to the firſt beginning of the right, we are in the dark."’

Thurſday, September 18. Laſt night Dr. Johnſon had propoſed that the cryſtal luſtre, or chandelier, in Dr. Taylor's large room, ſhould be lighted up ſome time or other. Taylor ſaid, it ſhould be lighted up next night. ‘"That will do very well, (ſaid I,) for it is Dr. Johnſon's birth-day."’ When we were in the Iſle of Sky, Johnſon had deſired me not to mention his birth⯑day. He did not ſeem pleaſed at this time that I mentioned it, and ſaid (ſomewhat ſternly) ‘"he would not have the luſtre lighted the next night."’

Some ladies, who had been preſent yeſterday when I mentioned his birth-day, came to dinner to-day, and plagued him unintentionally, by wiſhing him joy. I know not why he diſliked having his birth-day mentioned, unleſs it were that it reminded him of his approaching nearer to death, of which he had a conſtant dread.

I mentioned to him a friend of mine who was formerly gloomy from low ſpirits, and much diſtreſſed by the fear of death, but was now uniformly placid, and contemplated his diſſolution without any perturbation. ‘"Sir, (ſaid Johnſon,) this is only a diſordered imagination taking a different turn."’

We talked of a collection being made of all the Engliſh Poets who had publiſhed a volume of poems. Johnſon told me, ‘"that a Mr. Coxeter, whom he knew, had gone the greateſt length towards this; having collected, I think, about five hundred volumes of poets whoſe works were little known, but that upon his death Tom Oſborne bought them, and they were diſ⯑perſed, which he thought a pity, as it was curious to ſee any ſeries com⯑plete; and in every volume of poems ſomething good may be found."’

He obſerved, that a gentleman of eminence in literature had got into a bad ſtyle of poetry of late. ‘"He puts (ſaid he) a very common thing in a ſtrange dreſs till he does not know it himſelf, and thinks other people do not [147] know it."’ BOSWELL. ‘"That is owing to his being ſo much verſant in old Engliſh Poetry."’ JOHNSON. ‘"What is that to the purpoſe, Sir? If I ſay a man is drunk, and you tell me it is owing to his taking much drink, the matter is not mended. No, Sir,—has taken to an odd mode. For example; he'd write thus: 'Hermit hoar, in ſolemn cell, 'Wearing out life's evening gray." Gray evening is common enough; but evening gray he'd think fine.—Stay;—we'll make out the ſtanza: 'Hermit hoar, in ſolemn cell,'Wearing out life's evening gray;'Smite thy boſom, ſage, and tell,'What is bliſs? and which the way?"’

BOSWELL. ‘"But why ſmite his boſom, Sir?"’ JOHNSON. ‘"Why to ſhew he was in earneſt,"’ (ſmiling).—He at an after period added the following ſtanza:

[148] I cannot help thinking the firſt ſtanza very good ſolemn poetry, as alſo the three firſt lines of the ſecond. Its laſt line is an excellent burleſque ſurprize on gloomy ſentimental enquirers. And, perhaps, the advice is as good as can be given to a low-ſpirited diſſatisfied being.—‘"Don't trouble your head with ſickly thinking: take a cup, and be merry."’

Friday, September 19, after breakfaſt, Dr. Johnſon and I ſet out in Dr. Taylor's chaiſe to go to Derby. The day was fine, and we reſolved to go by Keddleſtone, the ſeat of Lord Scarſdale, that I might ſee his Lord⯑ſhip's fine houſe. I was ſtruck with the magnificence of the building; and the extenſive park, with the fineſt verdure, covered with deer, and cattle, and ſheep, delighted me. The number of old oaks, of an immenſe ſize, filled me with a ſort of reſpectful admiration: for one of them ſixty pounds was offered. The excellent ſmooth gravel roads; the large piece of water formed by his Lordſhip from ſome ſmall brooks, with a handſome barge upon it; the venerable Gothick church, now the family chapel, juſt by the houſe; in ſhort, the grand groupe of objects agitated and diſtended my mind in a moſt agreeable manner. ‘"One ſhould think (ſaid I) that the proprietor of all this muſt be happy."’—‘"Nay, Sir, (ſaid Johnſon,) all this excludes but one evil—poverty ⁸."’

Our names were ſent up, and a well-dreſt elderly houſekeeper, a moſt diſ⯑tinct articulator, ſhewed us the houſe; which I need not deſcribe, as it is publiſhed in ‘"Adams's Works in Architecture."’ Dr. Johnſon thought better of it to-day than when he ſaw it before; for the other night he attacked it violently, ſaying, ‘"It would do excellently for a town hall. The large room with the pillars (ſaid he) would do for the Judges to ſit in at the aſſizes; the circular room for a jury chamber; and the rooms above for priſoners."’ Still he thought the large room ill lighted, and of no uſe but for dancing in; and the bed-chambers but indifferent rooms; and that the immenſe ſum which it coſt was injudiciouſly laid out. Dr. Taylor had put him in mind of his appearing pleaſed with the houſe. ‘"But (ſaid he) that was when Lord Scarſdale was preſent. Politeneſs obliges us to appear pleaſed with a man's works when he is preſent. No man will be ſo ill bred as to queſtion you. You may therefore pay compliments without ſaying what is not true. I ſhould [149] ſay to Lord Scarſdale of his large room, 'My Lord, this is the moſt coſtly room that I ever ſaw;' which is true."’

Dr. Manningham, phyſician in London, who was viſiting at Lord Scarſdale's, accompanied us through many of the rooms, and ſoon afterwards my Lord himſelf, to whom Dr. Johnſon was known, appeared, and did the honours of the houſe. We talked of Mr. Langton. Johnſon, with a warm vehemence of affectionate regard, exclaimed, ‘"The earth does not bear a worthier man than Bennet Langton."’ We ſaw a good many fine pictures, which I think are deſcribed in one of ‘"Young's Tours."’ There is a printed catalogue of them which the houſekeeper put into my hand; I ſhould like to view them at leiſure. I was much ſtruck with Daniel interpreting Nebuchad⯑nezzar's dream by Rembrandt. We were ſhown a pretty large library. In his Lordſhip's dreſſing-room lay Johnſon's ſmall Dictionary: he ſhewed it to me, with ſome eagerneſs, ſaying, ‘"Look'ye! Quae terra noſtri non plena laboris."’ He obſerved, alſo, Goldſmith's ‘"Animated Nature;"’ and ſaid, ‘"Here's our friend! The poor Doctor would have been happy to hear of this."’

In our way, Johnſon ſtrongly expreſſed his love of driving faſt in a poſt⯑chaiſe. ‘"If (ſaid he) I had no duties, and no reference to futurity, I would ſpend my life in driving briſkly in a poſt-chaiſe with a pretty woman; but ſhe ſhould be one who could underſtand me, and would add ſomething to the converſation."’ I obſerved, that we were this day to ſtop juſt where the Highland army did in 1745. JOHNSON. ‘"It was a noble attempt."’ BOSWELL. ‘"I wiſh we could have an authentick hiſtory of it."’ JOHNSON. ‘"If you were not an idle dog you might write it, by collecting from every body what they can tell, and putting down your authorities."’ BOSWELL. ‘"But I could not have the advantage of it in my life-time."’ JOHNSON. ‘"You might have the ſatisfaction of its fame, by printing it in Holland; and as to profit, conſider how long it was before writing came to be conſidered in a pecuniary view. Baretti ſays, he is the firſt man that ever received copy-money in Italy."’ I ſaid, that I would endeavour to do what Dr. Johnſon ſuggeſted; and I thought that I might write ſo as to venture to publiſh my ‘"Hiſtory of the Civil War in Great-Britain in 1745 and 1746,"’ without being obliged to go to a foreign preſs ⁹.

[150] When we arrived at Derby, Dr. Butter accompanied us to ſee the manu⯑factory of china there. I admired the ingenuity and delicate art with which a man faſhioned clay into a cup, a ſaucer, or a tea-pot, while a boy turned round a wheel to give the maſs rotundity. I thought this as excellent in its ſpecies of power, as making good verſes in its ſpecies. Yet I had no reſpect for this potter. Neither, indeed, has a man of any extent of thinking for a mere verſe-maker, in whoſe numbers, however perfect, there is no poetry, no mind. The china was beautiful; but Dr. Johnſon juſtly obſerved, it was too dear; for that he could have veſſels of ſilver, of the ſame ſize, as cheap as what were here made of porcelain.

I felt a pleaſure in walking about Derby, ſuch as I always have in walking about any town to which I am not accuſtomed. There is an immediate ſen⯑ſation of novelty; and one ſpeculates on the way in which life is paſſed in it, which, although there is a ſameneſs every where upon the whole, is yet minutely diverſified. The minute diverſities in every thing are wonderful. Talking of ſhaving the other night at Dr. Taylor's, Dr. Johnſon ſaid, ‘"Sir, of a thouſand ſhavers, two do not ſhave ſo much alike as not to be diſtin⯑guiſhed."’ I thought this not poſſible, till he ſpecified ſo many of the varieties in ſhaving;—holding the razor more or leſs perpendicular;—drawing long or ſhort ſtrokes;—beginning at the upper part of the face, or the under;—at the right ſide or the left ſide. Indeed, when one conſiders what variety of ſounds can be uttered by the wind-pipe, in the compaſs of a very ſmall aperture, we may be convinced how many degrees of difference there may be in the application of a razor.

We dined with Dr. Butter, whoſe lady is daughter of my couſin Sir John Douglas, whoſe grandſon is now preſumptive heir of the noble family of Queenſberry. Johnſon and he had a good deal of medical converſation. Johnſon ſaid, he had ſomewhere or other given an account of Dr. Nichols's diſcourſe ‘"De Animâ Medicâ."’ He told us, ‘"that whatever a man's diſtemper was, Dr. Nichols would not attend him as a phyſician, if his mind was not at eaſe; for he believed that no medicines would have any influence. He once attended a man in trade, upon whom he found none of the medicines he preſcribed had any effect; he aſked the man's wife privately whether his affairs were not in a bad way? She ſaid no. He continued his attendance ſome time, ſtill without ſucceſs. At length the man's wife told him, ſhe had diſcovered that her huſband's affairs were in a bad way. When Goldſmith was dying, Dr. Turton ſaid to him, 'Your pulſe is in greater diſorder than it [151] ſhould be, from the degree of fever which you have: is your mind at eaſe?' Goldſmith anſwered it was not."’

After dinner, Mrs. Butter went with me to ſee the ſilk-mill which Sir Thomas Lambe had a patent for, having brought away the contrivance from Italy. I am not very converſant with mechanicks; but the ſimplicity of this machine, and its multiplied operations, ſtruck me with an agreeable ſurprize. I had learnt from Dr. Johnſon, during this interview, not to think with a dejected indifference of the works of art, and the pleaſures of life, becauſe life is uncertain and ſhort; but to conſider ſuch indifference as a failure of reaſon, a morbidneſs of mind; for happineſs ſhould be cultivated as much as we can, and the objects which are inſtrumental to it ſhould be ſteadily conſidered as of importance, with a reference not only to ourſelves, but to multitudes in ſucceſſive ages. Though it is proper to value ſmall parts, as

yet we muſt contemplate, collectively, to have a juſt eſtimation of objects. One moment's being uneaſy or not, ſeems of no conſequence; yet this may be thought of the next, and the next, and ſo on, till there is a large portion of miſery. In the ſame way one muſt think of happineſs, of learning, of friendſhip. We cannot tell the preciſe moment when friendſhip is formed. As in filling a veſſel drop by drop there is at laſt a drop which makes it run over; ſo in a ſeries of kindneſſes there is at laſt one which makes the heart run over. We muſt not divide objects of our attention into minute parts, and think ſeparately of each part. It is by contemplating a large maſs of human exiſtence, that a man, while he ſets a juſt value on his own life, does not think of his death as annihilating all that is great and pleaſing in the world, as if actually contained in his mind, according to Berkeley's reverie. If his imagination be not ſickly and feeble, it ‘"wings its diſtant way"’ far beyond himſelf, and views the world in unceaſing activity of every ſort. It muſt be acknowledged, however, that Pope's plaintive reflection, that all things would be as gay as ever on the day of his death, is natural and common. We are apt to transfer to all around us our own gloom, without conſidering that at any given point of time there is, perhaps, as much youth and gaiety in the world as at another. Before I came into this life, in which I have had ſo many pleaſant ſcenes, have not thouſands and ten thouſands of deaths and [152] funerals happened, and have not families been in grief for their neareſt relations? But have thoſe diſmal circumſtances at all affected me? Why then ſhould the gloomy ſcenes which I experience, or which I know, affect others? Let us guard againſt imagining that there is an end of felicity upon earth, when we ourſelves grow old, or are unhappy.

Dr. Johnſon told us at tea, that when ſome of Dr. Dodd's pious friends were trying to conſole him by ſaying that he was going to leave ‘"a wretched world,"’ he had honeſty enough not to join in the cant:—‘"No, no, (ſaid he,) it has been a very agreeable world to me."’ Johnſon added, ‘"I reſpect Dodd for thus ſpeaking the truth; for, to be ſure, he had for ſeveral years enjoyed a life of great voluptuouſneſs."’

He told us, that Dodd's city friends ſtood by him ſo, that a thouſand pounds were ready to be given to the gaoler, if he would let him eſcape.▪ He added, that he knew a friend of Dodd's, who walked about Newgate for ſome time on the evening before the day of his execution, with five hundred pounds in his pocket, ready to be paid to any of the turnkeys who could get him out: but it was too late; for he was watched with much circumſpection. He ſaid, Dodd's friends had an image of him made of wax, which was to have been left in his place; and he believed it was carried into the priſon.

Johnſon diſapproved of Dr. Dodd's leaving the world perſuaded that ‘"The Convict's Addreſs to his unhappy Brethren,"’ was of his own writing. ‘"But, Sir, (ſaid I,) you contributed to the deception; for when Mr. Seward expreſſed a doubt to you that it was not Dodd's own, becauſe it had a great deal more force of mind in it than any thing known to be his, you anſwered,—'Why ſhould you think ſo? Depend upon it, Sir, when a man knows he is to be hanged in a fortnight, it concentrates his mind wonder⯑fully."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Sir, as Dodd got it from me to paſs as his own, while that could do him any good, there was an implied promiſe that I ſhould not own it. To own it, therefore, would have been telling a lie, with the addi⯑tion of breach of promiſe, which was worſe than ſimply telling a lie to make it be believed it was Dodd's. Beſides, Sir, I did not directly tell a lie: I left the matter uncertain. Perhaps I thought that Seward would not believe it the leſs to be mine for what I ſaid; but I would not put it in his power to ſay I had owned it."’

He praiſed Blair's ſermons: ‘"Yet,"’ ſaid he, (willing to let us ſee he was aware that faſhionable fame, however deſerved, is not always the moſt laſting,) ‘"perhaps, they may not be re-printed after ſeven years; at leaſt not after Blair's death."’

[153] He ſaid, ‘"Goldſmith was a plant that flowered late. There appeared nothing remarkable about him when he was young; though when he had got high in fame, one of his friends began to recollect ſomething of his being diſtinguiſhed at College. Goldſmith in the ſame manner recollected more of that friend's early years, as he grew a greater man."’

I mentioned that Lord Monboddo told me, he awaked every morning at four, and then for his health got up and walked in his room naked, with the window open, which he called taking an air bath; after which he went to bed again, and ſlept two hours more. Johnſon, who was always ready to beat down any thing that ſeemed to be exhibited with diſproportionate importance, thus obſerved: ‘"I ſuppoſe, Sir, there is no more in it than this, he awaltes at four, and cannot ſleep till he chills himſelf, and makes the warmth of the bed a grateful ſenſation."’

I talked of the difficulty of riſing in the morning▪ Dr. Johnſon▪ told me▪ ‘"that the learned Mrs. Carter, at that period when ſhe was eager in ſtudy, did not awake as early as ſhe wiſhed, and ſhe therefore had a contrivance, that, at a certain hour, her chamber-light ſhould burn a ſtring to which a heavy weight was ſuſpended, which then fell with a ſtrong ſudden noiſe: this rouſed her from ſleep, and then ſhe had no difficulty in getting up."’ But I ſaid that was my difficulty, and wiſhed there could be ſome medicine invented which would make one riſe without pain, which I never did, unleſs after lying in bed a very long time. Perhaps there may be ſomething in the ſtores of Nature which can do this. I have thought of a pulley to raiſe me gradually▪ but that would give me pain, as it would counteract my internal inclination. I would have ſomething that can diſſipate the vis inertiae, and give elaſticity to the muſcles. As I imagine that the human body may be put, by the opera⯑tion of other ſubſtances, into any ſtate in which it has ever been; and as I have experienced a ſtate in which riſing from bed was not diſagreeable but eaſy, nay, ſometimes agreeable; I ſuppoſe that this ſtate may be produced, if we knew by what. We can heat the body, we can cool it; we can give it tenſion or relaxation; and ſurely it is poſſible to bring it into a ſtate in which riſing from bed will not be a pain.

Johnſon obſerved, ‘"that a man ſhould take a ſufficient quantity of ſleep, which Dr. Mead ſays is between ſeven and nine hours."’ I told him, that Dr. Cullen ſaid to me, that a man ſhould not take more ſleep than he can take at once. JOHNSON. ‘"This rule, Sir, cannot hold in all caſes; for many people have their ſleep broken by ſickneſs; and ſurely, Cullen would not have a man to get up, after having ſlept but an hour. Such a regimen would ſoon end in a [154] long ſleep ¹."’ Dr. Taylor remarked, I think very juſtly, ‘"that a man who does not feel an inclination to ſleep at the ordinary time, inſtead of being ſtronger than other people, muſt not be well; for a man in health has all the natural inclinations to eat, drink, and ſleep, in a ſtrong degree."’

Johnſon adviſed me to-night not to refine in the education of my children. ‘"Life (ſaid he) will not bear refinement: you muſt do as other people do."’

As we drove back to Aſhbourne, Dr. Johnſon recommended to me, as he had often done, to drink water only: ‘"For (ſaid he) you are then ſure not to get drunk; whereas if you drink wine you are never ſure."’ I ſaid, drinking wine was a pleaſure which I was unwilling to give up. ‘"Why, Sir, (ſaid he,) there is no doubt that not to drink wine is a great deduction from life; but it may be neceſſary."’ He however owned, that in his opinion a free uſe of wine did not ſhorten life; and ſaid, he would not give leſs for the life of a certain Scotch Lord (whom he named) celebrated for hard drinking, than for that of a ſober man. ‘"But ſtay, (ſaid he, with his uſual intelligence, and accuracy of enquiry,) does it take much wine to make him drunk?"’ I anſwered, ‘"a great deal either of wine or ſtrong punch."’—‘"Then (ſaid he) that is the worſe."’ I preſume to illuſtrate my friend's obſervation thus: ‘"A fortreſs which ſoon ſurrenders has its walls leſs ſhattered, than when a long and obſtinate reſiſtance is made."’

I ventured to mention a perſon who was as violent a Scotſman as he was an Engliſhman; and literally had the ſame contempt for an Engliſhman compared with a Scotſman, that he had for a Scotſman compared with an Engliſhman; and that he would ſay of Dr. Johnſon, ‘"Damned raſcal! to talk as he does of the Scotch."’ This ſeemed, for a moment, ‘"to give him pauſe."’ It, perhaps, preſented his extreme prejudice againſt the Scotch in a point of view ſomewhat new to him, by the effect of contraſt.

By the time when we returned to Aſhbourne, Dr. Taylor was gone to bed. Johnſon and I ſat up a long time by ourſelves.

[155] He was much diverted with an article which I ſhewed him in the ‘"Critical Review"’ of this year, giving an account of a curious publication, entitled, ‘"A Spiritual Diary and Soliloquies, by John Rutty, M. D."’ Dr. Rutty was one of the people called Quakers, a phyſician of ſome eminence in Dublin, and authour of ſeveral works. This Diary, which was kept from 1753 to 1775, the year in which he died, and was now publiſhed in two volumes, octavo, exhibited, in the ſimplicity of his heart, a minute and honeſt regiſter of the ſtate of his mind; which, though frequently laughable enough, was not more ſo than the hiſtory of many men would be, if recorded with equal fairneſs.

The following ſpecimens were extracted by the Reviewers:

Johnſon laughed heartily at this good Quietiſt's ſelf-condemning minutes; particularly at his mentioning, with ſuch a ſerious regret, occaſional inſtances of ‘"ſwiniſhneſs in eating, and doggedneſs of temper."’ He thought the obſervations of the Critical Reviewers upon the importance of a man to himſelf ſo ingenious and ſo well expreſſed, that I ſhall here introduce them.

After obſerving, that ‘"There are few writers who have gained any reputa⯑tion by recording their own actions,"’ they ſay,

‘"We may reduce the egotiſts to four claſſes. In the firſt we have Julius Caeſar: he relates his own tranſactions; but he relates them with peculiar grace and dignity, and his narrative is ſupported by the greatneſs of his [156] character and atchievements. In the ſecond claſs we have Marcus Antoninus: this writer has given us a ſeries of reflections on his own life; but his ſenti⯑ments are ſo noble, his morality ſo ſublime, that his meditations are univerſally admired. In the third claſs we have ſome others of tolerable credit, who have given importance to their own private hiſtory by an intermixture of literary anecdotes, and the occurrences of their own times: the cele⯑brated Huetius has publiſhed an entertaining volume upon this plan, 'De rebus ad eum pertinentibus.' In the fourth claſs we have the journaliſts, temporal and ſpiritual: Elias Aſhmole, William Lilly, George Whitefield, John Weſley, and a thouſand other old women and fanatick writers of memoirs and meditations."’

I mentioned to him that Dr. Hugh Blair, in his lectures on Rhetorick and Belles Lettres, which I heard him deliver at Edinburgh, had animadverted on the Johnſonian ſtyle as too pompous; and attempted to imitate it, by giving a ſentence of Addiſon in ‘"The Spectator,"’ No. 411, in the manner of Johnſon. When treating of the utility of the pleaſures of imagination in preſerving us from vice, it is obſerved of thoſe ‘"who know not how to be idle and innocent,"’ that their very firſt ſtep out of buſineſs is into vice or folly; which Dr. Blair ſuppoſed would have been expreſſed in ‘"The Rambler,"’ thus: ‘"Their very firſt ſtep out of the regions of buſineſs is into the per⯑turbation of vice, or the vacuity of folly ²."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Sir, theſe are not the words I ſhould have uſed. No, Sir; the imitators of my ſtyle have not hit it. Miſs Aikin has done it the beſt; for ſhe has imitated the ſentiment as well as the diction."’

I intend, before this work is concluded, to exhibit ſpecimens of imitation of my friend's ſtyle in various modes; ſome caricaturing or mimicking it, and ſome formed upon it, whether intentionally or with a degree of ſimilarity to it, of which, perhaps, the writers were not conſcious.

In Baretti's Review, which he publiſhed in Italy, under the title of ‘"Fruſta Letteraria,"’ it is obſerved, that Dr. Robertſon the hiſtorian had formed his ſtyle upon that of ‘"Il celebre Samuele Johnſon."’ My friend himſelf was of that opinion; for he once ſaid to me, in a pleaſant humour, ‘"Sir, if Robertſon's [157] ſtyle be faulty, he owes it to me; that is, having too many words, and thoſe too big ones."’

I read to him a letter which Lord Monboddo had written to me, containing ſome critical remarks upon the ſtyle of his ‘"Journey to the Weſtern Iſlands of Scotland."’ His Lordſhip praiſed the very fine paſſage upon landing at Icolmkill ³; but his own ſtyle being exceedingly dry and hard, he diſapproved of the richneſs of Johnſon's language, and of his frequent uſe of metaphorical expreſſions. JOHNSON. ‘"Why, Sir, this criticiſm would be juſt, if in my ſtyle, ſuperfluous words, or words too big for the thoughts, could be pointed out; but this I do not believe can be done. For inſtance: in the paſſage which Lord Monboddo admires, 'We were now treading that illuſtrious region,' the word illuſtrious, contributes nothing to the mere narration; for the fact might be told without it: but it is not, therefore, ſuper⯑fluous; for it wakes the mind to peculiar attention, where ſomething of more than uſual importance is to be preſented. 'Illuſtrious!'—for what? and then the ſentence proceeds to expand the circumſtances connected with Iona. And, Sir, as to metaphorical expreſſion, that is a great excellence in ſtyle, when it is uſed with propriety, for it gives you two ideas for one;—conveys the meaning more luminouſly, and generally with a perception of delight."’

He told me, that he had been aſked to undertake the new edition of the Biographia Britannica, but had declined it; which he afterwards ſaid to me he regretted. In this regret many will join, becauſe it would have procured us more of Johnſon's moſt delightful ſpecies of writing; and although my friend Dr. Kippis has hitherto diſcharged the taſk judiciouſly, diſtinctly, and with [158] more impartiality than might have been expected from a Separatiſt, it were to have been wiſhed that the ſuperintendance of this literary Temple of Fame, had been aſſigned to ‘"a friend to the conſtitution in Church and State."’ We ſhould not then have had it too much crowded with obſcure diſſenting teachers, doubtleſs men of merit and worth, but not quite to be numbered amongſt ‘"the moſt eminent perſons who have flouriſhed in Great-Britain and Ireland."’

On Saturday, September 20, after breakfaſt, when Taylor was gone out to his farm, Dr. Johnſon and I had a ſerious converſation by ourſelves on melancholy and madneſs; which he was, I always thought, erroneouſly inclined to confound together. Melancholy, like ‘"great wit,"’ may be ‘"near allied to madneſs;"’ but there is, in my opinion, a diſtinct ſeparation between them. When he talked of madneſs, he was to be underſtood as ſpeaking of thoſe who were in any great degree diſturbed, or as it is com⯑monly expreſſed, ‘"troubled in mind."’ Some of the ancient philoſophers held, that all deviations from right reaſon were madneſs; and whoever wiſhes to ſee the opinions both of ancients and moderns upon this ſubject, collected and illuſtrated with a variety of curious facts, may read Dr. Arnold's very entertaining work ⁴.

Johnſon ſaid, ‘"A madman loves to be with people whom he fears; not as a dog fears the laſh; but of whom he ſtands in awe."’ I was ſtruck with the juſtice of this obſervation. To be with thoſe of whom a perſon, whoſe mind is wavering and dejected, ſtands in awe, repreſſes and compoſes an uneaſy tumult of ſpirits, and conſoles him with the contemplation of ſomething ſteady, and at leaſt comparatively great.

He added, ‘"Madmen are all ſenſual in the lower ſtages of the diſtemper. They are eager for gratifications to ſooth their minds and divert their atten⯑tion from the miſery which they ſuffer: but when they grow very ill, pleaſure is too weak for them, and they ſeek for pain ⁵. Employment, Sir, and [159] hardſhips, prevent melancholy. I ſuppoſe in all our army in America there was not one man who went mad."’

We entered ſeriouſly upon a queſtion of much importance to me, which Johnſon was pleaſed to conſider with friendly attention. I had long com⯑plained to him that I felt myſelf diſcontented in Scotland, as too narrow a ſphere, and that I wiſhed to make my chief reſidence in London, the great ſcene of ambition, inſtruction, and amuſement; a ſcene, which was to me, comparatively ſpeaking, a heaven upon earth. JOHNSON. ‘"Why, Sir, I never knew any one who had ſuch a guſt for London as you have; and I can⯑not blame you for your wiſh to live there: yet, Sir, were I in your father's place, I ſhould not conſent to your ſettling there; for I have the old ſeudal notions, and I ſhould be afraid that Auchinleck would be deſerted, as you would ſoon find it more deſirable to have a country-ſeat in a better climate. I own, however, that to conſider it as a duty to reſide on a family eſtate is a prejudice; for we muſt conſider, that working-people get employment equally, and the produce of land is ſold equally, whether a great family reſides at home or not; and if the rents of an eſtate be carried to London, they return again in the circulation of commerce; nay, Sir, we muſt perhaps allow, that carrying the rents to a diſtance is a good, becauſe it contributes to that circu⯑lation. We muſt, however, allow, that a well-regulated great family may improve a neighbourhood in civility and elegance, and give an example of good order, virtue, and piety; and ſo its reſidence at home may be of much advantage. But if a great family be diſorderly and vicious, its reſidence at home is very pernicious to a neighbourhood. There is not now the ſame inducement to live in the country as formerly; the pleaſures of ſocial life are much better enjoyed in town; and there is no longer in the country that power and influence in proprietors of land which they had in old times, and which made the country ſo agreeable to them. The Laird of Auchinleck now is not near ſo great a man as the Laird of Auchinleck was a hundred years ago."’

I told him, that one of my anceſtors never went from home without being attended by thirty men on horſeback. Johnſon's ſhrewdneſs and ſpirit of enquiry were exerted upon every occaſion. ‘"Pray (ſaid he,) how did your anceſtor ſupport his thirty men and thirty horſes, when he went at a diſtance [] from home, in an age when there was hardly any money in circulation?"’ I ſuggeſted the ſame difficulty to a friend, who mentioned Douglas's going to the Holy Land with a numerous train of followers. ‘"Douglas could, no doubt, maintain followers enough while living upon his own lands, the pro⯑duce of which ſupplied them with food; but he could not carry that food to the Holy Land; and as there was no commerce by which he could be ſupplied with money, how could he maintain them in foreign countries?"’

I ſuggeſted a doubt, that if I were to reſide in London, the exquiſite zeſt with which I reliſhed it in occaſional viſits might go off, and I might grow tired of it. JOHNSON. ‘"Why, Sir, you find no man, at all intellectual, who is willing to leave London. No, Sir, when a man is tired of London, he is tired of life; for there is in London all that life can afford."’

To obviate his apprehenſion, that by ſettling in London I might deſert the ſeat of my anceſtors, I aſſured him, that I had old feudal principles to a degree of enthuſiaſm; and that I felt all the dulcedo of the natale ſolum. I reminded him, that the Laird of Auchinleck had an elegant houſe, in front of which he could ride ten miles forward upon his own territories, upon which he had upwards of ſix hundred people attached to him; that the family ſeat was rich in natural, romantick beauties of rock, wood, and water; and that in my ‘"morn of life"’ I had appropriated the fineſt deſcriptions, in the ancient Claſſicks to certain ſcenes there, which were thus aſſociated in my mind. That when all this was conſidered, I ſhould certainly paſs a part of the year at home, and enjoy it the more from variety, and from bringing with me a ſhare of the intellectual ſtores of the metropolis. He liſtened to all this, and kindly ‘"hoped it might be as I now ſuppoſed."’

He ſaid, ‘"A country gentleman ſhould bring his lady to viſit London as ſoon as he can, that they may have agreeable topicks for converſation when they are by themſelves."’

As I meditated trying my fortune in Weſtminſter Hall, our converſation turned upon the profeſſion of the law in England. JOHNSON. ‘"You muſt not indulge too ſanguine hopes, ſhould you be called to our bar. I was told, by a very ſenſible lawyer, that there are a great many chances againſt any man's ſucceſs in the profeſſion of the law; the candidates are ſo numerous, and thoſe who get large practice ſo few. He ſaid, it was by no means true that a man of good parts and application is ſure of having buſineſs, though, he, indeed, allowed that if ſuch a man could but appear in a few cauſes, his merit would be known, and he would get forward; but that the great riſk [161] was, that a man might paſs half a life-time in the Courts, and never have an opportunity of ſhewing his abilities."’

We talked of employment being abſolutely neceſſary to preſerve the mind from wearying and growing fretful, eſpecially in thoſe who have a tendency to melancholy; and I mentioned to him a ſaying which ſomebody had related of an American ſavage, who when an European was expatiating on all the advantages of money, [...] this queſtion: ‘"Will it purchaſe occupation?"’ JOHNSON. ‘"Depend upon it, Sir, this ſaying is too refined for a ſavage. And, Sir, money will purchaſe occupation; it will purchaſe all the conve⯑niencies of life; it will purchaſe variety of company; it will purchaſe all ſorts of entertainment."’

I talked to him of Forſter's ‘"Voyage to the South Seas,"’ which pleaſed me; but I found he did not like it. ‘"Sir, (ſaid he,) there is a great affec⯑tation of fine writing in it."’ BOSWELL. ‘"But he carries you along with him."’ JOHNSON. ‘"No, Sir; he does not carry me along with him: he leaves me behind him: or rather, indeed, he ſets me before him; for he makes me turn over many leaves at a time."’

On Sunday, September 12, we went to the church of Aſhbourne, which is one of the largeſt and moſt luminous that I have ſeen in any town of the ſame ſize. I felt great ſatisfaction in conſidering that I was ſupported in my fondneſs of ſolemn publick worſhip by the general concurrence and munifi⯑cence of mankind.

Johnſon and Taylor were ſo different from each other, that I wondered at their preſerving ſuch an intimacy. Their having been at ſchool and college together, might, in ſome degree, account for this; but Sir Joſhua Reynolds has furniſhed me with a ſtronger reaſon; for Johnſon mentioned to him, that he had been told by Taylor he was to be his heir. I ſhall not take upon me to animadvert upon this; but certain it is, that Johnſon paid great attention to Taylor. He now, however, ſaid to me, ‘"Sir, I love him, but I do not love him more; my regard for him does not increaſe. As it is ſaid in the Apocrypha, 'his talk is of bullocks ⁶:' I do not ſuppoſe he is very fond of my company. His habits are by no means ſufficiently clerical: this he knows that I ſee; and no man likes to live under the eye of perpetual diſapprobation."’

I have no doubt that a good many ſermons were compoſed for Taylor by Johnſon. At this time I found, upon his table, a part of one which he had [162] newly begun to write; and Concio pro Tayloro appears in one of his diaries. When to theſe circumſtances we add the internal evidence from the power of thinking and ſtyle, in the collection which the Reverend Mr. Hayes has publiſhed, with the ſignificant title of ‘"Sermons left for publication by the Reverend John Taylor, LL. D."’ our conviction will be complete.

I, however, would not have it thought, that Dr Taylor, though he could not write like Johnſon, (as, indeed, who could? [...] [...]d not ſometimes compoſe ſermons as good as thoſe which we generally have from very reſpectable divines. He ſhewed me one with notes on the margin in Johnſon's hand⯑writing; and I was preſent when he read another to Johnſon, that he might have his opinion of it, and Johnſon ſaid it was ‘"very well."’ Theſe, we may be ſure, were not Johnſon's; for he was above little arts, or tricks of deception.

Johnſon was by no means of opinion, that every man of a learned profeſſion ſhould conſider it as incumbent upon him, or as neceſſary to his credit, to appear as an authour. When in the ardour of ambition for literary fame, I regretted to him one day that an eminent Judge had nothing of it, and therefore would leave no perpetual monument of himſelf to poſterity. ‘"Alas, Sir, (ſaid Johnſon,) what a maſs of confuſion ſhould we have if every Biſhop and every Judge, every Lawyer, Phyſician, and Divine, were to write books."’

I mentioned to Johnſon a reſpectable perſon of a very ſtrong mind, who had little of that tenderneſs which is common to human nature; as an inſtance of which, when I ſuggeſted to him that he ſhould invite his ſon, who had been ſettled ten years in foreign parts, to come home and pay him a viſit, his anſwer was, ‘"No, no, let him mind his buſineſs."’ JOHNSON. ‘"I do not agree with him, Sir, in this. Getting money is not all a man's buſineſs: to culti⯑vate kindneſs is a valuable part of the buſineſs of life."’

In the evening, Johnſon being in very good ſpirits, entertained us with ſeveral characteriſtical portraits. I regret that any of them eſcaped my retention and diligence. I found, from experience, that to collect my friend's converſation ſo as to exhibit it with any degree of its original flavour, it was neceſſary to write it down without delay. To record his ſayings, after ſome diſtance of time, was like preſerving or pickling long-kept and faded fruits or other vegetables, which, when in that ſtate, have little or nothing of their taſte when freſh.

I ſhall preſent my readers with a ſeries of what I gathered this evening from the Johnſonian garden.

[163] ‘"My friend, the late Earl of Corke, had a great deſire to maintain the literary character of his family: he was a genteel man, but did not keep up the dignity of his rank. He was ſo generally civil, that nobody thanked him for it."’

‘"Did we not hear ſo much ſaid of Jack Wilkes, we ſhould think more highly of his converſation. Jack has great variety of talk, Jack is a ſcholar, and Jack has the manners of a gentleman. But after hearing his name ſounded from pole to pole, as the phoenix of convivial felicity, we are diſappointed in his company. He has always been at me: but I would do Jack a kindneſs, rather than not. The conteſt is now over."’

‘"Garrick's gaiety of converſation has delicacy and elegance: Foote makes you laugh more; but Foote has the air of a buffoon paid for entertaining the company. He, indeed, well deſerves his hire."’

‘"Colley Cibber once conſulted me as to one of his birth-day Odes, a long time before it was wanted. I objected very freely to ſeveral paſſages. Cibber loſt patience, and would not read his Ode to an end. When we had done with criticiſm, we walked over to Richardſon's, the authour of 'Clariſſa,' and I wondered to find Richardſon diſpleaſed that I 'did not treat Cibber with more reſpect.' Now, Sir, to talk of reſpect for a player!"’ (ſmiling diſdainfully). BOSWELL. ‘"There, Sir, you are always heretical: you never will allow merit to a player."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Merit, Sir! what merit? Do you reſpect a rope-dancer, or a ballad-ſinger▪"’ BOSWELL. ‘"No, Sir: but we reſpect a great player, as a man who can conceive lofty ſentiments, and can expreſs them gracefully."’ JOHNSON. ‘"What, Sir, a fellow who claps a hump on his back, and a lump on his leg, and cries, 'I am Richard the Third?' Nay, Sir, a ballad-ſinger is a higher man, for he does two things; he repeats and he ſings: there is both recitation and muſick in his performance: the player only recites."’ BOSWELL. ‘"My dear Sir! you may turn any thing into ridicule. I allow, that a player of farce is not entitled to reſpect; he does a little thing: but he who can repreſent exalted characters, and touch the nobleſt paſſions, has very reſpectable powers: and mankind have agreed in admiring great talents for the ſtage. We muſt conſider, too, that a great player does what very few are capable to do: his art is a very rare faculty. Who can repeat Hamlet's Soliloquy, 'To be, or not to be,' as Garrick does it?"’ JOHNSON. ‘"Any body may. Jemmy, there (a boy about eight years old, who was in the room) will do it as well in a week."’ BOSWELL. ‘"No, no, Sir: and as a proof of the merit of great acting, and of the value which mankind ſet upon it, Garrick has got a hundred thouſand pounds."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Is getting a hundred thouſand pounds a proof of excellence? That has been done by a ſcoundrel commiſſary."’

[164] This was moſt fallacious reaſoning. I was ſure, for once, that I had the beſt ſide of the argument. I boldly maintained the juſt diſtinction between a tragedian and a mere theatrical droll; between thoſe who rouſe our terrour and pity, and thoſe who only make us laugh. ‘"If (ſaid I) Betterton and Foote were to walk into this room, you would reſpect Betterton much more than Foote."’ JOHNSON. ‘"If Betterton were to walk into this room with Foote, Foote would ſoon drive him out of it. Foote, Sir, quatenùs Foote, has powers ſuperiour to them all."’

On Monday, September 22, when at breakfaſt, I unguardedly ſaid to Dr. Johnſon, ‘"I wiſh I ſaw you and Mrs. Macaulay together."’ He grew very angry; and, after a pauſe, while a cloud gathered on his brow, he burſt out, ‘"No, Sir; you would not ſee us quarrel, to make you ſport. Don't you know that it is very uncivil to pit two people againſt one another?"’ Then, checking himſelf, and wiſhing to be more gentle, he added, ‘"I do not ſay you ſhould be hanged or drowned for this; but it is very uncivil."’ Dr. Taylor thought him in the wrong, and ſpoke to him privately of it; but I afterwards acknowledged to Johnſon that I was to blame, for I candidly owned, that I meant to expreſs a deſire to ſee a conteſt between Mrs. Macaulay and him; but then I knew how the conteſt would end; ſo that I was to ſee him triumph. JOHNSON. ‘"Sir, you cannot be ſure how a conteſt will end; and no man has a right to engage two people in a diſpute by which their paſſions may be inflamed, and they may part with bitter reſentment againſt each other. I would ſooner keep company with a man from whom I muſt guard my pockets, than with a man who contrives to bring me into a diſpute with ſomebody that he may hear it. This is the great fault of—, (naming one of our friends) endeavouring to introduce a ſubject upon which he knows two people in the company differ."’ BOSWELL. ‘"But he told me, Sir, he does it for inſtruction."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Whatever the motive be, Sir, the man who does ſo, does very wrong. He has no more right to inſtruct himſelf at ſuch a riſk, than he has to make two people fight a duel, that he may learn how to defend himſelf."’

He found great fault with a gentleman of our acquaintance for keeping a bad table. ‘"Sir, (ſaid he,) when a man is invited to dinner, he is diſap⯑pointed if he does not get ſomething good. I adviſed Mrs. Thrale, who has no card-parties at her houſe, to give ſweet-meats, and ſuch good things, in an evening, as are not commonly given, and ſhe would find company enough come to her; for every body loves to have things which pleaſe the palate put in their way, without trouble or preparation."’ Such was his attention to the minutiae of life and manners.

[165] He thus characteriſed the Duke of Devonſhire, grandfather of the preſent repreſentative of that very reſpectable family: ‘"He was not a man of ſuperiour abilities, but he was a man ſtrictly faithful to his word. If, for inſtance, he had promiſed you an acron, and none had grown that year in his woods, he would not have contented himſelf with that excuſe; he would have ſent to Denmark for it. So unconditional was he in keeping his word; ſo high as to the point of honour."’ This was a liberal teſtimony from the Tory Johnſon to the virtue of a great Whig nobleman.

Mr. Burke's ‘"Letter to the Sheriffs of Briſtol, on the affairs of America,"’ being mentioned, Johnſon cenſured the compoſition much, and he ridiculed the definition of a free government, viz. ‘"For any practical purpoſe, it is what the people think ſo ⁷."’—‘"I will let the King of France govern me on thoſe conditions, (ſaid he,) for it is to be governed juſt as I pleaſe."’ And when Dr. Taylor talked of a girl being ſent to a pariſh workhouſe, and aſked how much ſhe could be obliged to work. ‘"Why, (ſaid Johnſon,) as much as is reaſonable: and what is that? as much as ſhe thinks reaſonable."’

Dr. Johnſon obligingly propoſed to carry me to ſee Iſlam, a romantick ſcene, now belonging to a family of the name of Port, but formerly the ſeat of the Congreves. I ſuppoſe it is well deſcribed in ſome of the Tours. Johnſon deſcribed it diſtinctly and vividly, at which I could not but expreſs to him my wonder; becauſe, though my eyes, as he obſerved, were better than his, I could not by any means equal him in repreſenting viſible objects. I ſaid, the difference between us in this reſpect was as that between a man who has a bad inſtrument, but plays well on it, and a man who has a good inſtrument, on which he can play very imperfectly.

I recollect a very fine amphitheatre, ſurrounded with hills covered with wood, and walks neatly formed along the ſide of a rocky ſteep, on the quarter next the houſe, with receſſes under projections of rock, over⯑ſhadowed with trees; in one of which receſſes, we were told, Congreve wrote his ‘"Old Bachelor."’ We viewed a remarkable natural curioſity at Iſlam; two rivers burſting near each other from the rock, not from immediate ſprings, but after having run for many miles under ground. Plott, in his ‘"Hiſtory of Staffordſhire ⁸"’, gives an account of this curioſity; but Johnſon would not believe it, though we had the atteſtation of the gardener, who ſaid, he had put in corks, where the river Manyfold ſinks into the ground, and had eatched them in a net, placed before one of the openings where the water [166] burſts out. Indeed, ſuch ſubterraneous courſes of water are found in various parts of our globe ⁹.

Talking of Dr. Johnſon's unwillingneſs to believe extraordinary things, I ventured to ſay, ‘"Sir, you come near Hume's argument againſt miracles, 'That it is more probable witneſſes ſhould lie, or be miſtaken, than that they ſhould happen."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Why, Sir, Hume, taking the propoſition ſimply, is right. But the Chriſtian revelation is not proved by the miracles alone, but as connected with prophecies, and with the doctrines in confirma⯑tion of which the miracles were wrought."’

He repeated his obſervation, that the difference among Chriſtians are really of no conſequence. ‘"For inſtance, (ſaid he,) if a Proteſtant objects to a Papiſt, 'You worſhip images;' the Papiſt can anſwer, 'I do not inſiſt on your doing it; you may be a very good Papiſt without it: I do it only as a help to my devotion."’ I ſaid, the great article of Chriſtianity is the revelation of immortality. Johnſon admitted it was.

In the evening, a gentleman-farmer, who was on a viſit at Dr. Taylor's, attempted to diſpute with Johnſon in favour of Mungo Campbell, who ſhot Alexander, Earl of Eglintoune, upon his having fallen, when retreating from his Lordſhip, who he believed was about to ſeize his gun, as he had threatened to do. He ſaid, he ſhould have done juſt as Campbell did. JOHNSON. ‘"Whoever would do as Campbell did, deſerves to be hanged; not that I could, as a juryman, have found him legally guilty of murder; but I am glad they found means to convict him."’ The gentleman-farmer ſaid, ‘"A poor man has as much honour as a rich man; and Campbell had that to defend."’ Johnſon exclaimed, ‘"A poor man has no honour."’ The Engliſh yeoman, not diſmayed, proceeded: ‘"Lord Eglintoune was a damned fool to run on upon Campbell, after being warned that Campbell would ſhoot him if he did."’ Johnſon, who could not bear any thing like ſwearing, angrily replied, ‘"He was not a damned fool: he only thought too well of Campbell. He did not believe Campbell would be ſuch a damned ſcoundrel, as to do ſo damned a thing."’ His emphaſis on damned, accompanied with frowning looks, reproved his opponent's want of decorum in his preſence.

Talking of the danger of being mortified by rejection, when making approaches to the acquaintance of the great, I obſerved, ‘"I am, however, generally for trying, 'Nothing venture, nothing have."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Very true, Sir; but I have always been more afraid of failing, than hopeful of [167] ſucceſs."’ And, indeed, though he had all juſt reſpect for rank, no man ever leſs courted the favour of the great.

During this interview at Aſhbourne, Johnſon ſeemed to be more uniformly ſocial, cheerful, and alert, than I had almoſt ever ſeen him. He was prompt on great occaſions and on ſmall. Taylor, who praiſed every thing of his own to exceſs, in ſhort, ‘"whoſe geeſe were all ſwans,"’ as the proverb ſays, expatiated on the excellence of his bull-dog, which he told us was ‘"perfectly well ſhaped."’ Johnſon, after examining the animal attentively, thus repreſſed the vain-glory of our hoſt:—‘"No, Sir, he is not well ſhaped; for there is not the quick tranſition from the thickneſs of the fore-part to the tenuity—the thin part—behind, which a bull-dog ought to have."’ This tenuity, was the only hard word that I heard him uſe during this interview, and it will be obſerved, he inſtantly put another expreſſion in its place. Taylor ſaid, a ſmall bull-dog was as good as a large one. JOHNSON. ‘"No, Sir; for, in proportion to his ſize, he has ſtrength: and your argument would prove, that a good bull-dog may be as ſmall as a mouſe."’ It was amazing how he entered with perſpicuity and keenneſs upon every thing that occurred in converſation. Moſt men, whom I know, would no more think of diſcuſſing a queſtion about a bull-dog, than of attacking a bull.

I cannot allow any fragment whatever that floats in my memory concerning the great ſubject of this work to be loſt. Though a ſmall particular may appear trifling to ſome, it will be reliſhed by others; while every little ſpark adds ſomething to the general blaze: and to pleaſe the true, candid, warm admirers of Johnſon, and in any degree increaſe the ſplendour of his reputa⯑tion, I bid defiance to the ſhafts of ridicule, or even of malignity. Showers of them have been diſcharged at my ‘"Journal of a Tour to the Hebrides;"’ yet it ſtill ſails unhurt along the ſtream of time, and, as an attendant upon Johnſon,

One morning after breakfaſt, when the ſun ſhone bright, we walked out together, and ‘"pored"’ for ſome time with placid indolence upon an artificial water-fall, which Dr. Taylor had made by building a ſtrong dyke of ſtone acroſs the river behind his garden. It was now ſomewhat obſtructed by branches of trees and other rubbiſh, which had come down the river and ſettled cloſe to it. Johnſon, partly from a deſire to ſee it play more freely, and partly from that inclination to activity which will animate, at times, the moſt inert and ſluggiſh mortal, took a long pole which was lying on the bank, and puſhed down ſeveral parcels of this wreck with painful aſſiduity, while I ſtood quietly by, wondering to behold the ſage thus curiouſly employed, and ſmiling with an [168] humorous ſatisfaction each time when he carried his point. He worked till he was quite out of breath; and having found a large dead cat ſo heavy that he could not move it after ſeveral efforts, ‘"Come, (ſaid he, throwing down the pole,) you ſhall take it now;"’ which I accordingly did, and being a freſh man, ſoon made the cat tumble over the caſcade. This may be laughed at as too trifling to record; but it is a ſmall characteriſtick trait in the Flemiſh picture which I give of my friend, and in which, therefore, I mark the moſt minute particulars. And let it be remembered, that ‘"Aeſop at play"’ is one of the inſtructive apologues of antiquity.

I mentioned an old gentleman of our acquaintance whoſe memory was beginning to fail.—JOHNSON. ‘"There muſt be a diſeaſed mind, where there is a failure of memory at ſeventy. A man's head, Sir, muſt be morbid if he fails ſo ſoon."’ My friend, being now himſelf ſixty-eight, might think thus: but I imagine, that threeſcore and ten, the Pſalmiſt's period of ſound human life, in later ages may have a failure, though there be no diſeaſe in the conſtitution.

Talking of Rocheſter's Poems, he ſaid, he had given them to Mr. Steevens to caſtrate for the edition of the Poets, to which he was to write Prefaces. Dr. Taylor (the only time I ever heard him ſay any thing witty ¹) ob⯑ſerved, that ‘"if Rocheſter had been caſtrated himſelf, his exceptionable poems would not have been written."’ I aſked if Burnet had not given a good Life of Rocheſter. JOHNSON. ‘"We have a good Death: there is not much Life."’ I aſked whether Prior's Poems were to be printed entire: Johnſon ſaid they were. I mentioned Lord Hailes's cenſure of Prior, in his Preface to a collection of ‘"Sacred Poems,"’ by various hands, publiſhed by him at Edinburgh a great many years ago, where he mentions, ‘"thoſe impure tales which will be the eternal opprobrium of their ingenious authour."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Sir, Lord Hailes has forgot. There is nothing in Prior that will excite to lewdneſs. If Lord Hailes thinks there is, he muſt be more combuſtible than other people."’ I inſtanced the tale of ‘"Paulo Purgant [...] and his Wife."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Sir, there is nothing there, but that his wife wanted to be kiſſed, when poor Paulo was out of pocket. No, Sir, Prior is a lady's book. No lady is aſhamed to have it ſtanding in her library."’

The hypochondriack diſorder being mentioned, Dr. Johnſon did not think it ſo common as I ſuppoſed.—‘"Dr. Taylor (ſaid he) is the ſame one day as another. Burke and Reynolds are the ſame. Beauclerk, except when in pain, is the ſame. I am not ſo myſelf; but this I do not mention commonly."’

[169] I complained of a wretched changefulneſs, ſo that I could not preſerve, for any long continuance, the ſame views of any thing. It was moſt comfortable to me to experience, in Dr. Johnſon's company, a relief from this uneaſineſs. His ſteady vigorous mind held firm before me thoſe objects which my own feeble and tremulous imagination frequently preſented, in ſuch a wavering ſtate, that my reaſon could not judge well of them.

Dr. Johnſon adviſed me to-day, to have as many books about me as I could; that I might read upon any ſubject upon which I had a deſire for inſtruction at the time. ‘"What you read then (ſaid he) you will remember; but if you have not a book immediately ready, and the ſubject moulds in your mind, it is a chance if you again have a deſire to ſtudy it."’ He added, ‘"If a man never has an eager deſire for inſtruction, he ſhould preſcribe a taſk for himſelf. But it is better when a man reads from im⯑mediate inclination."’

He repeated a good many lines of Horace's Odes, while we were in the chaiſe. I remember particularly the Ode ‘"Eheu fugaces."’

He ſaid, the diſpute as to the comparative excellence of Homer or Virgil² was inaccurate. ‘"We muſt conſider (ſaid he) whether Homer was not the greateſt poet, though Virgil may have produced the fineſt poem. Virgil was indebted to Homer for the whole invention of the ſtructure of an epick poem, and for many of his beauties."’

He told me, that Bacon was a favourite authour with him; but he had never read his works till he was compiling the Engliſh Dictionary, in which, he ſaid, I might ſee Bacon very often quoted. Mr. Seward recollects his having mentioned, that a Dictionary of the Engliſh language might be compiled from Bacon's writings alone, and that he had once an intention of giving an edition of Bacon, at leaſt of his Engliſh works, and writing the Life of that great man. Had he executed this intention, there can be no doubt that he would have done it in a moſt maſterly manner. Mallet's Life of Bacon has no inconſiderable merit as an acute and elegant diſſertation relative to its ſub⯑ject; but Mallet's mind was not comprehenſive enough to embrace the vaſt extent of Lord Verulam's genius and reſearch. Dr. Warburton therefore [170] obſerved, with witty juſtneſs, ‘"that Mallet in his Life of Bacon had forgotten that he was a philoſopher; and if he ſhould write the Life of the Duke of Marlborough, which he had undertaken to do, he would probably forget that he was a General."’

Wiſhing to be ſatisfied what degree of truth there was in a ſtory which a friend of Johnſon's and mine had told me to his diſadvantage, I mentioned it to him in direct terms; and it was to this effect: that a gentleman who had lived in great intimacy with him, ſhewn him much kindneſs, and even relieved him from a ſpunging-houſe, having afterwards fallen into bad circum⯑ſtances, was one day, when Johnſon was at dinner with him, ſeized for debt, and carried to priſon; that Johnſon ſat ſtill undiſturbed, and went on eating and drinking; upon which the gentleman's ſiſter, who was preſent, could not ſuppreſs her indignation: ‘"What, Sir, (ſaid ſhe,) are you ſo unfeeling, as not even to offer to go to my brother in his diſtreſs; you who have been ſo much obliged to him?"’ And that Johnſon anſwered, ‘"Madam, I owe him no obligation; what he did for me he would have done for a dog."’

Johnſon aſſured me, that the ſtory was abſolutely falſe; but like a man conſcious of being in the right, and deſirous of completely vindicating him⯑ſelf from ſuch a charge, he did not arrogantly reſt on a mere denial, and on his general character, but proceeded thus:—‘"Sir, I was very intimate with that gentleman, and was once relieved by him from an arreſt; but I never was preſent when he was arreſted, never knew that he was arreſted, and I believe he never was in difficulties after the time when he relieved me. I loved him much; yet, in talking of his general character, I may have ſaid, though I do not remember that I ever did ſo, that as his generoſity proceeded from no principle, but was a part of his profuſion, he would do for a dog what he would do for a friend: but I never applied this remark to any par⯑ticular inſtance, and certainly not to his kindneſs to me. If a profuſe man, who does not value his money, and gives a large ſum to a whore, gives half as much, or an equally large ſum to relieve a friend, it cannot be eſteemed as virtue. This was all that I could ſay of that gentleman; and, if ſaid at all, it muſt have been ſaid after his death. Sir, I would have gone to the world's end to relieve him. The remark about the dog, if made by me, was ſuch a ſally as might eſcape one when painting a man highly."’

On Tueſday, September 23, Johnſon was remarkably cordial to me. It being neceſſary for me to return to Scotland ſoon, I had fixed on the next day for my ſetting out, and I felt a tender concern at the thought of parting [171] with him. He had, at this time, frankly communicated to me many parti⯑culars, which are inſerted in this work in their proper places; and once, when I happened to mention that the expence of my jaunt would come to much more than I had computed, he ſaid, ‘"Why, Sir, if the expence were to be an inconvenience, you would have reaſon to regret it: but, if you have had the money to ſpend, I know not that you could have purchaſed as much pleaſure with it in any other way."’

During this interview at Aſhbourne, Johnſon and I frequently talked with wonderful pleaſure of mere trifles which had occurred in our tour to the Hebrides; for it had left a moſt agreeable and laſting impreſſion upon his mind.

He found fault with me for uſing the phraſe to make money. ‘"Don't you ſee (ſaid he) the impropriety of it? To make money is to coin it: you ſhould ſay get money."’ The phraſe, however, is, I think, pretty current. But Johnſon was at all times jealous of infractions upon the genuine Engliſh language, and prompt to repreſs colloquial barbariſms; ſuch as, pledging myſelf, for undertaking; line, for department or branch, as, the civil line, the banking line. He was particularly indignant againſt the almoſt univerſal uſe of the word idea in the ſenſe of notion or opinion, when it is clear that idea can only ſignify ſomething of which an image can be formed in the mind. We may have an idea or image of a mountain, a tree, a building; but we cannot ſurely have an idea or image of an argument or propoſition. Yet we hear the ſages of the law ‘"delivering their ideas upon the queſtion under conſideration;"’ and the firſt ſpeakers in parliament ‘"entirely coinciding in the idea which has been ably ſtated by an honourable member;"’—or ‘"reprobating an idea uncon⯑ſtitutional and fraught with the moſt dangerous conſequences to a great and free country."’ Johnſon called this ‘"modern cant."’

I perceived that he pronounced the word heard, as if ſpelt with a double e, heerd, inſtead of ſounding it herd, as is moſt uſually done. He ſaid, his reaſon was, that if it were pronounced herd, there would be a ſingle exception from the Engliſh pronunciation of the ſyllable ear, and he thought it better not to have that exception.

He praiſed Granger's ‘"Ode on Solitude,"’ in Dodſley's collection, and repeated, with great energy, the exordium:

obſerving, ‘"This, Sir, is very noble."’

In the evening our gentleman-farmer, and two others, entertained them⯑ſelves and the company with a great number of tunes on the fiddle. Johnſon deſired to have ‘"Let ambition fire thy mind,"’ played over again, and appeared to give a patient attention to it; though he owned to me that he was very inſenſible to the power of muſick. I told him, that it affected me to ſuch a degree, as often to agitate my nerves painfully, producing in my mind alternate ſenſations of pathetick dejection, ſo that I was ready to ſhed tears; and of daring reſolution, ſo that I was inclined to ruſh into the thickeſt part of a battle. ‘"Sir, (ſaid he,) I ſhould never hear it, if it made me ſuch a fool."’

Much of the effect of muſick, I am ſatisfied, is owing to aſſociation of ideas. That air, which inſtantly and irreſiſtibly excites in the Swiſs, when in a foreign land, the maladie du pais, has, I am told, no intrinſick power of ſound. And I know from my own experience, that Scotch reels, though briſk, make me melancholy, becauſe I uſed to hear them in my early years, at a time when Mr. Pitt called for ſoldiers ‘"from the mountains of the north,"’ and numbers of brave Highlanders were going abroad, never to return. Whereas the airs in ‘"The Beggar's Opera,"’ many of which are very ſoft, never fail to render me gay, becauſe they are aſſociated with the warm ſenſations and high ſpirits of London. This evening, while ſome of the tunes of ordinary compoſition were played with no great ſkill, my frame was agitated, and I was conſcious of a generous attachment to Dr. Johnſon, as my preceptor and friend, mixed with an affectionate regret that he was an old man, whom I ſhould probably loſe in a ſhort time. I thought I could defend him at the point of my ſword. My reverence and affection for him were in full glow. I ſaid to him, ‘"My dear Sir, we muſt meet every year, if you don't quarrel with me."’ JOHNSON ‘"Nay, Sir, you are more likely to quarrel with me, than I with you. My regard for you is greater almoſt than I have words to expreſs; but I do not chooſe to be always repeating it, [173] write it down in the firſt leaf of your pocket-book, and never doubt of it again."’

I talked to him of miſery being ‘"the doom of man,"’ in this life, as diſ⯑played in his ‘"Vanity of Human Wiſhes."’ Yet I obſerved that things were done upon the ſuppoſition of happineſs; grand houſes were built, fine gardens were made, ſplendid places of publick amuſement were contrived, and crowded with company. JOHNSON. ‘"Alas, Sir, theſe are all only ſtruggles for happineſs. When I firſt entered Ranelagh, it gave an expanſion and gay ſenſation to my mind, ſuch as I never experienced any where elſe. But, as Xerxes wept when he viewed his immenſe army, and conſidered that not one of that great multitude would be alive a hundred years afterwards, ſo it went to my heart to conſider that there was not one in all that brilliant circle, that was not afraid to go home and think; but that the thoughts of each individual there, would be diſtreſſing when alone."’ This reflection was experimentally juſt. The feeling of languor ³, which ſucceeds the animation of gaiety, is itſelf a very ſevere pain; and when the mind is then vacant, a thouſand diſappointments and vexations ruſh in and excruciate. Will not many even of my faireſt readers allow this to be true?

I ſuggeſted, that being in love, and flattered with hopes of ſucceſs; or having ſome favourite ſcheme in view for the next day, might prevent that wretched⯑neſs of which we had been talking▪ JOHNSON. ‘"Why, Sir, it may ſometimes be ſo as you ſuppoſe; but my concluſion is in general but too true."’

While Johnſon and I ſtood in calm conference by ourſelves in Dr. Taylor's garden, at a pretty late hour, in a ſerene autumn night, looking up to the heavens, I directed the diſcourſe to the ſubject of a future ſtate. My friend was in a placid and moſt benignant frame. ‘"Sir, (ſaid he,) I do not imagine that all things will be made clear to us immediately after death, but that the ways of Providence will be explained to us very gradually."’ I ventured to aſk him whether although the words of ſome texts of Scripture ſeemed ſtrong in ſupport of the dreadful doctrine of an eternity of puniſhment, we might not hope that the denunciation was figurative, and would not literally be executed. [174] JOHNSON. ‘"Sir, you are to conſider the intention of puniſhment in a future ſtate. We have no reaſon to be ſure that we ſhall then be no longer liable to offend againſt GOD. We do not know that even the angels are quite in a ſtate of ſecurity; nay we know that ſome of them have fallen. It may, therefore, perhaps be neceſſary, in order to preſerve both men and angels in a ſtate of rectitude, that they ſhould have continually before them the puniſhment of thoſe who have deviated from it; but we may hope that by ſome other means a fall from rectitude may be prevented. Some of the texts of Scripture upon this ſubject are, as you obſerve, indeed ſtrong; but they may admit of a mitigated interpretation."’ He talked to me upon this aweful and delicate queſtion in a gentle tone, and as if afraid to be deciſive.

After ſupper I accompanied him to his apartment, and at my requeſt he dictated to me an argument in favour of the negro who was then claiming his liberty, in an action in the Court of Seſſion in Scotland ⁴. He had always been very zealous againſt ſlavery in every form, in which I with all deference thought that he diſcovered ‘"a zeal without knowledge."’ Upon one occaſion, when in company with ſome very grave men at Oxford, his toaſt was, ‘"Here's to the next inſurrection of the negroes in the Weſt-Indies."’ His violent prejudice againſt our Weſt-Indian and American ſettlers appeared whenever there was an opportunity. Towards the concluſion of his ‘"Taxation no Tyranny,"’ he ſays, ‘"how is it that we hear the loudeſt yelps for liberty among the drivers of negroes?"’ and in his converſation with Mr. Wilkes ⁵, he aſked, ‘"Where did Beckford and Trecothick learn Engliſh?"’ That Trecothick could both ſpeak and write good Engliſh is well known. I myſelf was favoured with his correſpondence concerning the brave Corſicans. And that Beckford could ſpeak it with a ſpirit of honeſt reſolution even to his Majeſty, as his ‘"faithful Lord-Mayor of London,"’ is commemorated by the noble monument erected to him in Guildhall.

When I ſaid now to Johnſon, that I was afraid I kept him too late up. ‘"No, Sir, (ſaid he,) I don't care though I ſit all night with you."’ This was an animated ſpeech from a man in his ſixty-ninth year.

Had I been as attentive not to diſpleaſe him as I ought to have been, I know not but this vigil might have been fulfilled; but I unluckily entered [175] upon the controverſy concerning the right of Great-Britain to tax America, and attempted to argue in favour of our fellow-ſubjects on the other ſide of the Atlantick. I inſiſted that America might be very well governed, and made to yield a ſufficient revenue by the means of influence, as exem⯑plified in Ireland, while the people might be pleaſed with the imagination of their participating of the Britiſh conſtitution, by having a body of re⯑preſentatives without whoſe conſent money could not be exacted from them. Johnſon could not bear my thus oppoſing his avowed opinion, which he had exerted himſelf with an extreme degree of heat to enforce; and the violent agitation into which he was thrown while anſwering, or rather reprimanding me, alarmed me ſo that I heartily repented of my having unthinkingly introduced the ſubject. I myſelf however grew warm, and the change was great, from the calm ſtate of philoſophical diſcuſſion in which we had a little before been pleaſingly employed.

I talked of the corruption of the Britiſh parliament, in which I alledged that any queſtion, however unreaſonable or unjuſt, might be carried by a venal majority, and I ſpoke with high admiration of the Roman Senate, as if compoſed of men ſincerely deſirous to reſolve what they ſhould think beſt for their country. My friend would allow no ſuch character to the Roman Senate; and he maintained that the Britiſh parliament was not corrupt, and that there was no occaſion to corrupt its members, aſſerting, that there was hardly ever any queſtion of great importance before parliament, any queſtion in which a man might not very well vote either upon one ſide or the other. He ſaid there had been none in his time except that reſpecting America.

We were fatigued by the conteſt, which was produced by my want of caution; and he was not then in the humour to ſlide into eaſy and cheerful talk. It therefore ſo happened, that we were after an hour or two very willing to ſeparate and go to bed.

On Wedneſday, September 24, I went into Dr. Johnſon's room before he got up, and finding that the ſtorm of the preceding night was quite laid, I ſat down upon his bed-ſide, and he talked with as much readineſs and good⯑humour as ever. He recommended to me to plant a conſiderable part of a large mooriſh farm which I had purchaſed, and he made ſeveral calculations of the expence and profit, for he delighted in exerciſing his mind on the ſcience of numbers. He preſſed upon me the importance of planting at the firſt in a very ſufficient manner, quoting the ſaying ‘"In bello non licet bis errare;"’ and adding ‘"this is equally true in planting."’

[176] I ſpoke with gratitude of Dr. Taylor's hoſpitality; and as evidence that it was not on account of his good table alone that Johnſon viſited him often, I mentioned a little anecdote which had eſcaped my friend's recollection, and at hearing which repeated, he ſmiled. One evening when I was ſitting with him, Frank delivered this meſſage, ‘"Sir, Dr. Taylor ſends his compli⯑ments to you, and begs you will dine with him to-morrow. He has got a hare."’—‘"My compliments (ſaid Johnſon,) and I'll dine with him, hare or rabbit."’

After breakfaſt I departed, and purſued my journey northwards. I took my poſt-chaiſe from the Green Man, a very good inn at Aſhbourne, the miſtreſs of which, a mighty civil gentlewoman, curtſeying very low, preſented me with an engraving of the ſign of her houſe; to which ſhe had ſubjoined, in her own hand-writing, an addreſs in ſuch ſingular ſimplicity of ſtyle, that I have preſerved it paſted upon one of the boards of my original Journal at this time, and ſhall here inſert it for the amuſement of my readers:

From this meeting at Aſhbourne I derived a conſiderable acceſſion to my Johnſonian ſtore. I communicated my original Journal to Sir William Forbes, in whom I have always placed deſerved confidence; and what he wrote to me concerning it is ſo much to my credit as the biographer of Johnſon, that my readers will, I hope, grant me their indulgence for here inſerting it, ‘"It is not once or twice going over it (ſays Sir William) that will ſatisfy me; for I find in it a high degree of inſtruction as well as enter⯑tainment; and I derive more benefit from Dr. Johnſon's admirable diſcuſſions than I ſhould be able to draw from his perſonal converſation; for, I ſuppoſe there is not a man in the world to whom he diſcloſes his ſentiments ſo freely as to yourſelf."’

I cannot omit a curious circumſtance which occurred at Edenſor-inn, cloſe by Chatſworth, to ſurvey the magnificence of which I had gone a conſiderable way out of my road to Scotland. The inn was then kept by a very joll [...] [177] landlord, whoſe name I think was Malton. He happened to mention that ‘"the celebrated Dr. Johnſon had been in his houſe."’ I inquired who this Dr. Johnſon was, that I might hear mine hoſt's notion of him. ‘"Sir, (ſaid he,) Johnſon, the great writer; Oddity, as they call him. He's the greateſt writer in England; he writes for the miniſtry; he has a correſpondence abroad, and lets them know what's going on."’

My friend, who had a thorough dependance upon the authenticity of my relation without any embelliſhment, as falſehood or fiction is too gently called, laughed a good deal at this repreſentation of himſelf.

About this time I wrote to Johnſon, giving him an account of the deciſion of the Negro cauſe, by the Court of Seſſion, which by thoſe who hold even the mildeſt and beſt regulated ſlavery in abomination, (of which number I do not heſitate to declare that I am none,) ſhould be remembered with high reſpect, and to the credit of Scotland; for it went upon a much broader ground than the caſe of Somerſet, which was decided in England ⁸; being truly the general queſtion, whether a perpetual obligation of ſervice to one maſter in any mode ſhould be ſanctioned by the law of a free country. A negro, then called Joſeph Knight, a native of Africa, who having been brought to Jamaica in the uſual courſe of the ſlave trade, and purchaſed by a Scotch gentleman in that iſland, had attended his maſter to Scotland, where it was [180] officiouſly ſuggeſted to him that he would be found entitled to his liberty without any limitation. He accordingly brought his action, in the courſe of which the advocates on both ſides did themſelves great honour. Mr. Maclaurin has had the praiſe of Johnſon, for his argument ⁹ in favour of the negro, and Mr. Macconochie diſtinguiſhed himſelf on the ſame ſide, by his ingenuity and extraordinary reſearch. Mr. Cullen, on the part of the maſter, diſcovered good information and ſound reaſoning; in which he was well ſupported by Mr. James Ferguſſon, a man remarkable for a manly underſtanding, and a knowledge both of books and of the world. But I cannot too highly praiſe the ſpeech which Mr. Henry Dundas generouſly contributed to the cauſe of the ſooty ſtranger. Mr. Dundas's Scottiſh accent, which has been ſo often in vain obtruded as an objection to his powerful abilities in parliament, was no diſadvantage to him in his own country. And I do declare, that upon this memorable queſtion he impreſſed me, and I believe all his audience, with ſuch feelings as were produced by ſome of the moſt eminent orations of antiquity. This teſtimony I liberally give to the excel⯑lence of an old friend, with whom it has been my lot to differ very widely upon many political topicks; yet I perſuade myſelf without malice. A great majority of the Lords of Seſſion decided for the negro. But four of their number, the Lord Preſident, Lord Elliock, Lord Monboddo, and Lord Covington, reſolutely maintained the lawfulneſs of a ſtatus, which has been acknowledged in all ages and countries, and that when freedom flouriſhed, as in old Greece and Rome.

In 1778, Johnſon gave the world a luminous proof that the vigour of his mind in all its faculties, whether memory, judgement, or imagination, was not in the leaſt abated; for this year came out the firſt four volumes of his ‘"Prefaces, biographical and critical, to the moſt eminent of the Engliſh Poets,*"’ publiſhed by the bookſellers of London. The remaining volumes came out in the year 1780. The Poets were ſelected by the ſeveral book⯑ſellers who had the honorary copy-right, which is ſtill preſerved among them by mutual compact, notwithſtanding the deciſion of the Houſe of Lords againſt the perpetuity of Literary Property. We have his own authority ¹, that by his recommendation the poems of Blackmore, Watts, Pomfret, and Yalden, were added to the collection. Of this work I ſhall ſpeak more particularly hereafter.

On Wedneſday, March 18, I arrived in London, and was informed by good Mr. Francis that his maſter was better, and was gone to Mr. Thrale's at Streatham, to which place I wrote to him, begging to know when he would be in town. He was not expected for ſome time; but next day having called on Dr. Taylor, in Dean's-yard, Weſtminſter, I found him there, and was told he had come to town for a few hours. He met me with his [186] uſual kindneſs, but inſtantly returned to the writing of ſomething on which he was employed when I came in, and on which he ſeemed much intent. Finding him thus engaged, I made my viſit very ſhort, and had no more of his converſation, except his expreſſing a ſerious regret that a friend of ours was living at too much expence, conſidering how poor an appearance he made: ‘"If (ſaid he) a man has ſplendour from his expence, if he ſpends his money in pride or in pleaſure, he has value: but if he lets others ſpend it for him, which is moſt commonly the caſe, he has no advantage from it."’

On Friday, March 20, I found him at his own houſe, ſitting with Mrs. Williams, and was informed that the room formerly allotted to me was now appropriated to a charitable purpoſe; Mrs. Deſmoulins ⁴, and I think her daughter, and a Miſs Carmichael, being all lodged in it. Such was his humanity, and ſuch his generoſity, that Mrs. Deſmoulins herſelf told me, he allowed her half-a-guinea a week. Let it be remembered, that this was above a twelfth part of his penſion.

His liberality, indeed, was at all periods of his life very remarkable. Mr. Howard, of Lichfield, at whoſe father's houſe Johnſon had in his early years been kindly received, told me, that when he was a boy at the Charter-Houſe, his father wrote to him to go and pay a viſit to Mr. Samuel Johnſon, which he accordingly did, and found him in an upper room, of poor appearance. Johnſon received him with much courteouſneſs, and talked a great deal to him, as to a ſchool-boy, of the courſe of his education, and other particulars. When he afterwards came to know and underſtand the high character of this great man, he recollected his condeſcenſion with wonder. He added, that when he was going away, Mr. Johnſon preſented him with half-a-guinea; and this, ſaid Mr. Howard, was at a time when he probably had not another.

We retired from Mrs. Williams to another room. Tom Davies ſoon after joined us. He had now unfortunately failed in his circumſtances, and was much indebted to Dr. Johnſon's kindneſs for obtaining for him many allevia⯑tions of his diſtreſs. After he went away, Johnſon blamed his folly in quitting the ſtage, by which he and his wife got five hundred pounds a year. I ſaid, I believed it was owing to Churchill's attack upon him,

JOHNSON. ‘"I believe ſo too, Sir. But what a man is he who is to be driven from the ſtage by a line? Another line would have driven him from his ſhop."’

[187] I told him, that I was engaged as Counſel at the bar of the Houſe of Commons to oppoſe a road-bill in the county of Stirling, and aſked him what mode he would adviſe me to follow in addreſſing ſuch an audience. JOHNSON. ‘"Why, Sir, you muſt provide yourſelf with a good deal of extraneous matter, which you are to produce occaſionally, ſo as to fill up the time; for you muſt conſider, that they do not liſten much. If you begin with the ſtrength of your cauſe, it may be loſt before they begin to liſten. When you catch a moment of attention, preſs the merits of the queſtion upon them."’ He ſaid, as to one point of the merits, that he thought ‘"it would be a wrong thing to deprive the ſmall landholders of the privilege of aſſeſſing themſelves for making and repairing the high roads; it was deſtroying ſo much liberty, without a good reaſon, which was always a bad thing."’ When I men⯑tioned this obſervation next day to Mr. Wilkes, he pleaſantly ſaid, ‘"What! does he talk of liberty? Liberty is as ridiculous in his mouth as Religion in mine."’ Mr. Wilkes's advice, as to the beſt mode of ſpeaking at the bar of the Houſe of Commons, was not more reſpectful towards the ſenate, than that of Dr. Johnſon. ‘"Be as impudent as you can, as merry as you can, and ſay whatever comes uppermoſt. Jack Lee is the beſt heard there of any Counſel; and he is the moſt impudent dog, and always abuſing us."’

In my interview with Dr. Johnſon this evening, I was quite eaſy, quite as his companion; upon which I find in my Journal the following reflection: ‘"So ready is my mind to ſuggeſt matter for diſſatisfaction, that I felt a ſort of regret that I was ſo eaſy. I miſſed that aweful reverence with which I uſed to contemplate Mr. Samuel Johnſon, in the complex magnitude of his literary, moral, and religious character. I have a wonderful ſuperſtitious love of myſtery; when, perhaps, the truth is, that it is owing to the cloudy darkneſs of my own mind. I ſhould be glad that I am more advanced in my progreſs of being, ſo that I can view Dr. Johnſon with a ſteadier and clearer eye. My diſſatisfaction to-night was fooliſh. Would it not be fooliſh to regret that we ſhall have leſs myſtery in a future ſtate? That we 'now ſee in a glaſs darkly,' but ſhall 'then ſee face to face?"’—This reflection, which I thus freely communicate, will be valued by the thinking part of my readers, who may have themſelves experienced ſimilar ſtates of mind.

He returned next day to Streatham, to Mr. Thrale's; where, as Mr. Strahan once complained to me, ‘"he was in a great meaſure abſorbed from the ſociety of his old friends."’ I was kept in London by buſineſs, and wrote to him on the 27th, that ‘"a ſeparation from him for a week, when we were [188] ſo near, was equal to a ſeparation for a year, when we were at four hundred miles diſtance."’ I went to Streatham on Monday, March 30. Before he appeared, Mrs. Thrale made a very characteriſtical remark:—‘"I do not know for certain what will pleaſe Dr. Johnſon: but I know for certain that it will diſpleaſe him to praiſe any thing, even what he likes, extravagantly."’

At dinner he laughed at querulous declamations againſt the age, on account of luxury—increaſe of London—ſcarcity of proviſions—and other ſuch topicks. ‘"Houſes (ſaid he) will be built till rents fall; and corn is more plentiful now than ever it was."’

I had before dinner repeated a ridiculous ſtory told me by an old man who had been a paſſenger with me in the ſtage-coach to-day. Mrs. Thrale, having taken occaſion to allude to it in talking to me, called it ‘"The ſtory told you by the old woman."’—‘"Now, Madam, (ſaid I,) give me leave to catch you in the fact: it was not an old woman, but an old man, whom I mentioned as having told me this."’ I preſumed to take an opportunity, in preſence of Johnſon, of ſhewing this lively lady how ready ſhe was, uninten⯑tionally, to deviate from exact authenticity of narration.

‘"Thomas à Kempis (he obſerved) muſt be a good book, as the world has opened its arms to receive it. It is ſaid to have been printed, in one language or other, as many times as there have been months ſince it firſt came out. I always was ſtruck with this ſentence in it: 'Be not angry that you cannot make others as you wiſh them to be, ſince you cannot make yourſelf as you wiſh to be."’

He ſaid, ‘"I was angry with Hurd about Cowley, for having publiſhed a ſelection of his works: but, upon better conſideration, I think there is no impropriety in a man's publiſhing as much as he chooſes of any authour, if he does not put the reſt out of the way. A man, for inſtance, may print the Odes of Horace alone."’ He ſeemed to be in a more indulgent humour than when this ſubject was diſcuſſed between him and Mr. Murphy ⁵.

When we were at tea and coffee, there came in Lord Trimbleſtown, in whoſe family was an ancient Iriſh peerage, but it ſuffered by taking the gene⯑rous ſide in the troubles of the laſt century. He was a man of pleaſing converſation, and was accompanied by a young gentleman, his ſon.

I mentioned that I had in my poſſeſſion the Life of Sir Robert Sibbald, the celebrated Scottiſh antiquary, and founder of the Royal College of Phyſicians at Edinburgh, in the original manuſcript in his own hand-writing; and [189] that it was I believed the moſt natural and candid account of himſelf that ever was given by any man. As an inſtance, he tells that the Duke of Perth, then Chancellor of Scotland, preſſed him very much to come over to the Roman-Catholick Faith; that he reſiſted all his Grace's arguments for a conſiderable time, till one day he felt himſelf as it were inſtantaneouſly con⯑vinced, and with tears in his eyes ran into the Duke's arms, and embraced the ancient religion; that he continued very ſteady in it for ſome time, and accompanied his Grace to London one winter, and lived in his houſehold; that there he found the rigid faſting preſcribed by the church very ſevere upon him; that this diſpoſed him to reconſider the controverſy, and having then ſeen that he was in the wrong, he returned to Proteſtantiſm. I talked of ſome time or other publiſhing this curious life. MRS. THRALE. ‘"I think you had as well let alone that publication. To diſcover ſuch weakneſs expoſes a man when he is gone."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Nay, it is an honeſt picture of human nature. How often are the primary motives of our greateſt actions as ſmall as Sibbald's, for his re-converſion."’ MRS. THRALE. ‘"But may they not as well be forgotten?"’ JOHNSON. ‘"No, Madam, a man loves to review his own mind. That is the uſe of a diary, or journal."’ LORD TRIMBLESTOWN. ‘"True, Sir. As the ladies love to ſee themſelves in a glaſs; ſo a man likes to ſee himſelf in his journal."’ BOSWELL. ‘"A very pretty alluſion."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Yes, indeed."’ BOSWELL. ‘"And as a lady adjuſts her dreſs before a mirror, a man adjuſts his character by looking at his journal."’ I next year found the very ſame thought in Atterbury's ‘"Sermon on Lady Cutts."’ ‘"In this glaſs ſhe every day dreſſed her mind."’ This is a proof of coincidence, and not of plagiariſm; for I had never read that ſermon before.

Next morning, while we were at breakfaſt, Johnſon gave a very earneſt recommendation of what he himſelf practiſed with the utmoſt conſcientiouſ⯑neſs: I mean a ſtrict attention to truth, even in the moſt minute particulars. ‘"Accuſtom your children (ſaid he) conſtantly to this; if a thing happened at one window, and they, when relating it, ſay that it happened at another, do not let it paſs, but inſtantly check them; you do not know where deviation from truth will end."’ BOSWELL. ‘"It may come to the door; and when once an account is at all varied in one circumſtance, it may by degrees be varied ſo as to be totally different from what really happened."’ Our lively hoſteſs, whoſe fancy was impatient of the rein, fidgeted at this, and ventured to ſay, ‘"Nay, this is too much. If Mr. Johnſon ſhould forbid me to drink tea I would comply, as I ſhould feel the reſtraint only twice a day; but little variations in narrative muſt happen a thouſand times a day, if one is not [190] perpetually watching."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Well, Madam, and you ought to be perpetually watching. It is more from careleſſneſs about truth than from intentional lying, that there is ſo much falſehood in the world."’

In his review of Dr. Warton's ‘"Eſſay on the Writings and Genius of Pope,"’ Johnſon has given the following ſalutary caution upon this ſubject: ‘"Nothing but experience could evince the frequency of falſe information, or unable any man to conceive that ſo many groundleſs reports ſhould be pro⯑pagated, as every man of eminence may hear of himſelf. Some men relate what they think, as what they know; ſome men of confuſed memories and habitual inaccuracy, aſcribe to one man what belongs to another; and ſome talk on, without thought or care. A few men are ſufficient to broach falſe⯑hoods, which are afterwards innocently diffuſed by ſucceſſive relaters ⁶."’ Had he lived to read what Sir John Hawkins and Mrs. Piozzi have related concerning himſelf, how much would he have found his obſervation illuſ⯑trated. He was indeed, ſo much impreſſed with the prevalence of falſehood, voluntary or unintentional, that I never knew any perſon who upon hearing an extraordinary circumſtance told, diſcovered more of the incredulus odi. He would ſay with a ſignificant look and deciſive tone, ‘"It is not ſo. Do not tell this again."’ He inculcated upon all his friends the importance of perpetual vigilance againſt the ſlighteſt degrees of falſehood, the effect of which, as Sir Joſhua Reynolds obſerved to me, has been, that all who were of his ſchool are diſtinguiſhed for a love of truth and accuracy, which they would not have poſſeſſed in the ſame degree, if they had not been known to Johnſon.

Talking of ghoſts, he ſaid, ‘"It is wonderful▪ that five thouſand years have now elapſed ſince the creation of the world, and ſtill it is undecided whether or not there▪ has ever been an inſtance of the ſpirit of any perſon appearing after death. All argument is againſt it; but all belief is for it.’

He ſaid, ‘"John Weſley's converſation is good, but he is never at leiſure. He is always obliged to go at a certain hour. This is very diſagreeable to a man who loves to fold his legs and have out his talk, as I do."’

On Friday, April 3, I dined with him in London, in a company where were preſent ſeveral eminent men, whom I ſhall not name, but diſtinguiſh their parts in the converſation by different letters.

F. ‘"I have been looking at this famous antique marble dog of Mr. Jennings, valued at a thouſand guineas, ſaid to be Alcibiades's dog."’ [191] JOHNSON. ‘"His tail then muſt be docked. That was the mark of Alci⯑biades's dog."’ E. ‘"A thouſand guineas! The repreſentation of no animal whatever is worth ſo much. At this rate a dead dog would indeed be better than a living lion."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Sir, it is not the worth of the thing, but of the ſkill in forming it which is ſo highly eſtimated. Every thing that enlarges the ſphere of human powers, that ſhows man he can do what he thought he could not do, is valuable. The firſt man who balanced a ſtraw upon his noſe; Johnſton who rode upon three horſes at a time; in ſhort, all ſuch men deſerved the applauſe of mankind, not on account of the uſe of what they did, but of the dexterity which they exhibited."’ BOSWELL. ‘"Yet a miſapplication of time and aſſiduity is not to be encouraged. Addiſon, in one of his 'Spectators' commends the judgement of a King, who as a ſuitable reward to a man that by long perſeverance had attained to the art of throwing a barley-corn through the eye of a needle, gave him a buſhel of barley."’ JOHNSON. ‘"He has been a King of Scotland, where barley is ſcarce."’ F. ‘"One of the moſt remarkable antique figures of an animal is the boar at Florence."’ JOHNSON. ‘"The firſt boar that is well made in marble ſhould be preſerved as a wonder. When men arrive at a facility of making boars well, then the workmanſhip is not of ſuch value, but they ſhould however be preſerved as examples, and as a greater ſecurity for the reſtoration of the art, ſhould it be loſt."’

E. ‘"We hear prodigious complaints at preſent of emigration. I am convinced that emigration makes a country more populous."’ J. ‘"That ſounds very much like a paradox."’ E. ‘"Exportation of men, like exporta⯑tion of all other commodities, makes more be produced."’ JOHNSON. ‘"But there would be more people were there not emigration, provided there were food for more."’ E. ‘"No; leave a few breeders, and you'll have more people than if there were no emigration."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Nay, Sir, it is plain there will be more people, if there are more breeders. Thirty cows in good paſture will produce more calves than ten cows, provided they have good bulls."’ E. ‘"There are bulls enough in Ireland."’ JOHNSON. (ſmiling,) ‘"So, Sir, I ſhould think from your argument."’ BOSWELL. ‘"You ſaid ex⯑portation of men, like exportation of other commodities, makes more be produced. But a bounty is given to encourage the exportation of corn, and no bounty is given for the exportation of men; though, indeed, thoſe who go gain by it."’ R. ‘"But the bounty on the exportation of corn is paid at home."’ E. ‘"That's the ſame thing."’ JOHNSON. ‘"No, Sir."’ R. ‘"A man who ſtays at home gains nothing by his neighbour's emigrating."’ [192] BOSWELL. ‘"I can underſtand that emigration may be the cauſe that more people may be produced in a country; but the country will not therefore be from that the more populous, for the people iſſue from it. It can only be ſaid that there is a flow of people. It is an encouragement to have children, to know that they can get a living by emigration."’ R. ‘"Yes, if there were an emigration of children under ſix years of age. But they don't emigrate till they could earn their livelihood in ſome way at home."’ C. ‘"It is remarkable that the moſt unhealthy countries, where there are the moſt de⯑ſtructive diſeaſes, ſuch as Egypt and Bengal, are the moſt populous."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Countries which are the moſt populous have the moſt deſtructive diſeaſes. That is the true ſtate of the propoſition."’ C. ‘"Holland is very unhealthy, yet it is exceedingly populous."’ JOHNSON. ‘"I know not that Holland is unhealthy. But its populouſneſs is owing to an influx of people from all other countries. Diſeaſe cannot be the cauſe of populouſneſs, for it not only carries off a great proportion of the people; but thoſe who are left are weakened, and unfit for the purpoſes of increaſe."’

R. ‘"Mr. E. I don't mean to flatter, but when poſterity reads one of your ſpeeches in parliament, it will be difficult to believe that you took ſo much pains, knowing with certainty that it could produce no effect, that not one vote would be gained by it."’ E. ‘"Waving your compliment to me, I ſhall ſay in general, that it is very well worth while for a man to take pains to ſpeak well in parliament. A man, who has vanity, ſpeaks to diſplay his talents; and if a man ſpeaks well, he gradually eſtabliſhes a certain reputation and conſequence in the general opinion, which ſooner or later will have its political reward. Beſides, though not one vote is gained, a good ſpeech has its effect. Though an act which has been ably oppoſed paſſes into a law, yet in its progreſs it is modelled, it is ſoftened in ſuch a manner, that we ſee plainly the miniſter has been told, that the members attached to him are ſo ſenſible of its injuſtice or abſurdity from what they have heard, that it muſt be altered."’ JOHNSON. ‘"And, Sir, there is a gratification of pride. Though we cannot out-vote them we will out-argue them. They ſhall not do wrong without its being ſhown both to themſelves and to the world."’ E. ‘"The Houſe of Commons is a mixed body. (I except the minority, which I hold to be pure [ſmiling] but I take the whole Houſe.) It is a maſs by no means pure; but neither is it wholly corrupt, though there is a large pro⯑portion of corruption in it. There are many members who generally go with the miniſter, who will not go all lengths. There are many honeſt well-meaning country gentlemen who are in parliament only to keep up the [193] conſequence of their families. Upon moſt of theſe a good ſpeech will have influence."’ JOHNSON. ‘"We are all more or leſs governed by intereſt. But intereſt will not make us do every thing. In a caſe which admits of doubt, we try to think on the ſide which is for our intereſt, and generally bring our⯑ſelves to act accordingly. But the ſubject muſt admit of diverſity of colouring; it muſt receive a colour on that ſide. In the Houſe of Commons there are members enough who will not vote what is groſsly unjuſt or abſurd. No, Sir, there muſt always be right enough, or appearance of right, to keep wrong in countenance."’ BOSWELL. ‘"There is ſurely always a majority in parliament who have places, or who want to have them, and who therefore will be generally ready to ſupport government without requiring any pretext."’ E. ‘"True, Sir; that majority will always follow 'Quo clamor vocat et turba faventium."’ BOSWELL. ‘"Well now, let us take the common phraſe, Place-hunters▪ I thought they had hunted without regard to any thing, juſt as their huntſ⯑man, the miniſter, leads, looking only to the prey ⁷."’ J. ‘"But taking your metaphor, you know that in hunting there are few ſo deſperately keen as to follow without reſerve. Some do not chooſe to leap ditches and hedges and riſk their necks, or gallop over ſteeps, or even to dirty themſelves in bogs and mire."’ BOSWELL. ‘"I am glad there are ſome good, quiet, moderate political hunters."’ E. ‘"I believe in any body of men in England I ſhould have been in the minority; I have always been in the minority."’ P. ‘"The Houſe of Commons reſembles a private company. How ſeldom is any man convinced by another's argument; paſſion and pride riſe againſt it."’ R. ‘"What would be the conſequence, if a miniſter, ſure of a majority in the Houſe of Commons, ſhould reſolve that there ſhould be no ſpeaking at all upon his ſide."’ E. ‘"He muſt ſoon go out. That has been tried; but it was found it would not do."’

E. ‘"The Iriſh language is not primitive; it is Teutonick, a mixture of the northern tongues: it has much Engliſh in it."’ JOHNSON. ‘"It may have been radically Teutonick; but Engliſh and High Dutch have no ſimilarity to the eye, though radically the ſame. Once when looking into Low Dutch, I [194] found, in a whole page, only one word ſimilar to Engliſh; ſtroem, like ſtream, and it ſignified tide."’ E. ‘"I remember having ſeen a Dutch Sonnet, in which I found this word, roeſnopies. Nobody would, at firſt, think that this could be Engliſh; but, when we enquire, we find roes, roſe, and nopie, knob; ſo we have roſe-buds."’

JOHNSON. ‘"I have been reading Thickneſs's travels which I think are entertaining."’ BOSWELL. ‘"What, Sir, a good book?"’ JOHNSON. ‘"Yes, Sir, to read once; I do not ſay you are to make a ſtudy of it, and digeſt it; and I believe it to be a true book in his intention. All travellers generally mean to tell truth; though Thickneſs obſerves, upon Smollet's account of his alarming a whole town in France by firing a blunderbuſs, and frightening a French nobleman till he made him tie on his portmanteau, that he would be loth to ſay Smollet had told two lies in one page; but he had found the only town in France where theſe things could have happened. Travellers muſt often be miſtaken. In every thing, except where menſuration can be applied, they may honeſtly differ. There has been, of late, a ſtrange turn in travellers to be diſpleaſed."’

E. ‘"From the experience which I have had—and I have had a great deal—I have learnt to think better of mankind."’ JOHNSON. ‘"From my experience I have found them worſe in commercial dealings, more diſpoſed to cheat, than I had any notion of; but more diſpoſed to do one another good than I had conceived."’ J. ‘"Leſs juſt and more beneficent."’ JOHNSON. ‘"And really it is wonderful, conſidering how much attention is neceſſary for men to take care of themſelves, and ward off immediate evils which preſs upon them, it is wonderful how much they do for others. As it is ſaid of the greateſt liar, that he tells more truth than falſehood; ſo it may be ſaid of the worſt man, that he does more good than evil."’ BOSWELL. ‘"Perhaps from experience men may be found happier than we ſuppoſe."’ JOHNSON. ‘"No, Sir; the more we enquire we ſhall find men the leſs happy."’ P. ‘"As to thinking better or worſe of mankind from experience, ſome cunning people will not be ſatisfied unleſs they have put men to the teſt, as they think. There is a very good ſtory told of Sir Godfrey Kneller, in his character of a Juſtice of the peace. A gentleman brought his ſervant before him, upon an accu⯑ſation of having ſtolen ſome money from him; but it having come out that he had laid it purpoſely in the ſervant's way, in order to try his honeſty, Sir Godfrey ſent the maſter to priſon."’ JOHNSON. ‘"To reſiſt temptation once, is not a ſufficient proof of honeſty. If a ſervant, indeed, were to reſiſt the continued temptation of ſilver lying in a window, as ſome people let it lye, [195] when he is ſure his maſter does not know how much there is of it, he would give a ſtrong proof of honeſty. But this is a proof to which you have no right to put a man. You know, humanly ſpeaking, there is a certain degree of temptation which will overcome any virtue. Now, in ſo far as you approach temptation to a man, you do him an injury; and, if he is over⯑come, you ſhare his guilt."’ P. ‘"And, when once overcome, it is eaſier for him to be got the better of again."’ BOSWELL. ‘"Yes, you are his ſeducer; you have debauched him. I have known a man reſolve to put friendſhip to the teſt, by aſking a friend to lend him money, merely with that view, when he did not want it."’ JOHNSON. ‘"That is very wrong, Sir. Your friend may be a narrow man, and yet have many good qualities: narrowneſs may be his only fault. Now you are trying his general character as a friend, by one particular ſingly, in which he happens to be defective, when, in truth, his character is compoſed of many particulars."’

E. ‘"I underſtand the hogſhead of claret, which this ſociety was favoured with by our friend the Dean, is nearly out; I think he ſhould be written to, to ſend another of the ſame kind. Let the requeſt be made with a happy ambiguity of expreſſion, ſo that we may have the chance of his ſending it alſo as a preſent."’ JOHNSON. ‘"I am willing to offer my ſervices as ſecre⯑tary on this occaſion."’ P. ‘"As many as are for Dr. Johnſon being ſecretary hold up your hands.—Carried unanimouſly."’ BOSWELL. ‘"He will be our Dictator."’ JOHNSON. ‘"No, the company is to dictate to me. I am only to write for wine; and I am quite diſintereſted, as I drink none; I ſhall not be ſuſpected of having forged the application. I am no more than humble ſcribe."’ E. ‘"Then you ſhall preſcribe."’ BOSWELL. ‘"Very well. The firſt play of words to-day."’ J. ‘"No, no; the bulls in Ireland."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Were I your Dictator you ſhould have no wine. It would be my buſineſs cavere ne quid detrimenti Reſpublica caperet, and wine is dangerous. Rome was ruined by luxury,"’ (ſmiling). E. ‘"If you allow no wine as Dictator, you ſhall not have me for your maſter of horſe."’

On Saturday, April 4, I drank tea with Johnſon at Dr. Taylor's, where he had dined. He entertained us with an account of a tragedy witten by a Dr. Kennedy, (not the Liſbon phyſician). ‘"The cataſtrophe of it (ſaid he) was, that a King, who was jealous of his Queen with his prime-miniſter, caſtrated himſelf. This tragedy was actually ſhewn about in manuſcript to ſeveral people, and, amongſt others, to Mr. Fitzherbert, who repeated to me two lines of the Prologue: [196] 'Our hero's fate we have but gently touch'd; 'The fair might blame us if it were leſs couch'd.' It is hardly to be believed what abſurd and indecent images men will intro⯑duce into their writings, without being ſenſible of the abſurdity and indecency. I remember Lord Orrery told me, that there was a pamphlet written againſt Sir Robert Walpole, the whole of which was an allegory on the PHALLICK OBSCENITY. The Ducheſs of Buckingham aſked Lord Orrery who this perſon was? He anſwered, he did not know. She ſaid, ſhe would ſend to Mr. Pulteney, who, ſhe ſuppoſed, could inform her. So then, to prevent her from making herſelf ridiculous, Lord Orrery ſent her Grace a note, in which he gave her to underſtand what was meant."’

He was very ſilent this evening; and read in a variety of books; ſuddenly throwing down one, and taking up another.

He talked of going to Streatham that night. TAYLOR. ‘"You'll be robbed if you do; or you muſt ſhoot a highwayman. Now I would rather be robbed than do that: I would not ſhoot a highwayman."’ JOHNSON. ‘"But I would rather ſhoot him in the inſtant when he is attempting to rob me, than afterwards ſwear againſt him at the Old-Bailey to take away his life, after he has robbed me. I am ſurer I am right in the one caſe than in the other. I may be miſtaken as to the man when I ſwear: I cannot be miſtaken if I ſhoot him in the act. Beſides, we feel leſs reluctance to take away a man's life when we are heated by the injury, than to do it at a diſtance of time by an oath, after we have cooled."’ BOSWELL. ‘"So, Sir, you would rather act from the motive of private paſſion, than that of publick advantage."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Nay, Sir, when I ſhoot the highwayman I act from both."’ BOSWELL. ‘"Very well, very well.—There is no catching him."’ JOHNSON. ‘"At the ſame time one does not know what to ſay. For perhaps one may, a year after, hang himſelf from uneaſineſs for having ſhot a man ⁸. Few [197] minds are fit to be truſted with ſo great a thing."’ BOSWELL. ‘"Then, Sir, you would not ſhoot him?"’ JOHNSON. ‘"But I might be vexed afterwards for that too."’

Thrale's carriage not having come for him, as he expected, I accom⯑panied him ſome part of the way home to his own houſe. I told him, that I had talked of him to Mr. Dunning a few days before, and had ſaid, that in his company we did not ſo much interchange converſation, as liſten to him; and that Dunning obſerved, upon this, ‘"One is always willing to liſten to Dr. Johnſon:"’ to which I anſwered, ‘"That is a great deal from you, Sir."’—‘"Yes, Sir, (ſaid Johnſon,) a great deal indeed. Here is a man willing to liſten, to whom the world is liſtening all the reſt of the year."’ BOSWELL. ‘"I think, Sir, it is right to tell one man of ſuch a handſome thing, which has been ſaid of him by another. It tends to increaſe benevo⯑lence."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Undoubtedly it is right, Sir."’

On Tueſday, April 7, I breakfaſted with him at his houſe. He ſaid, ‘"nobody was content."’ I mentioned to him a reſpectable perſon in Scotland whom he knew; and I aſſerted, that I really believed he was always content. JOHNSON. ‘"No, Sir, he is not content with the preſent; he has always ſome new ſcheme, ſome new plantation, ſomething which is future. You know he was not content as a widower; for he married again."’ BOSWELL. ‘"But he is not reſtleſs."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Sir, he is only locally at reſt. A chymiſt is locally at reſt; but his mind is hard at work. This gentleman has done with external exertions. It is too late for him to engage in diſtant projects."’ BOSWELL. ‘"He ſeems to amuſe himſelf quite well; to have his attention fixed, and his tranquillity preſerved by very ſmall matters. I have tried this, but it would not do with me."’ JOHNSON. (laughing) ‘"No, Sir; it muſt be born with a man to be contented to take up with little things. Women have a great advantage that they may take up with little things, without diſ⯑gracing themſelves: a man cannot, except with fiddling. Had I learnt to fiddle, I ſhould have done nothing elſe."’ BOSWELL. ‘"Pray, Sir, did you ever play on any muſical inſtrument?"’ JOHNSON. ‘"No, Sir. I once bought me a flagelet; but I never made out a tune."’ BOSWELL. ‘"A flagelet, Sir!—ſo ſmall an inſtrument ⁹? I ſhould have liked to hear you [198] play on the violincello. That ſhould have been your inſtrument."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Sir, I might as well have played on the violincello as another; but I ſhould have done nothing elſe. No, Sir; a man would never undertake great things could he be amuſed with ſmall. I once tried knotting. Dempſter's ſiſter undertook to teach me; but I could not learn it."’ BOSWELL. ‘"So, Sir, it will be related in pompous narrative, 'Once for his amuſement he tried knotting; nor did this Hercules diſdain the diſtaff. Once for his amuſe⯑ment he tried knotting."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Knitting of ſtockings is a good amuſement. As a freeman of Aberdeen I ſhould be a knitter of ſtockings."’

He aſked me to go down with him and dine at Mr. Thrale's at Streatham, to which I agreed. I had lent him ‘"An Account of Scotland, in 1702,"’ written by a man of various enquiry, an Engliſh chaplain to a regiment ſtationed there. JOHNSON. ‘"It is ſad ſtuff, Sir, miſerably written, as books in general then were. There is now an elegance of ſtyle univerſally diffuſed. No man now writes ſo ill as Martin's Account of the Hebrides is written. A man could not write ſo ill, if he ſhould try. Set a merchant's clerk now to write, and he'll do better."’

He talked to me with ſerious concern of a certain female friend's ‘"laxity of narration, and inattention to truth."’—‘"I am as much vexed (ſaid he) at the eaſe with which ſhe hears it mentioned to her, as at the thing itſelf. I told her, 'Madam, you are contented to hear every day ſaid to you, what the higheſt of mankind have died for, rather than bear.'—You know, Sir, the higheſt of mankind have died rather than bear to be told they had uttered a falſehood. Do talk to her of it: I am weary."’

BOSWELL. ‘"Was not Dr. John Campbell a very inaccurate man in his narrative, Sir. He once told me, that he drank thirteen bottles of port at a ſitting."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Why, Sir, I do not know that Campbell ever lied with pen and ink; but you could not entirely depend on any thing he told you in converſation, if there was fact mixed with it. However, I loved Campbell he was a ſolid orthodox man: he had a reverence for religion. Though defective in practice, he was religious in principle; and he did nothing groſsly wrong that I have heard."’

I told him, that I had been preſent the day before when Mrs. Montagu, the literary lady, ſat to Miſs Reynolds for her picture; and that ſhe ſaid, ‘"ſhe had bound up Mr. Gibbon's Hiſtory without the laſt two offenſive chapters; for that ſhe thought the book ſo far good, as it gave, in an elegant manner, the ſubſtance of the bad writers medii aevi, which the late Lord Lyttelton adviſed her [199] to read."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Sir, ſhe has not read them: ſhe ſhews none of this impe⯑tuoſity to me: ſhe does not know Greek, and, I fancy, knows little Latin. She is willing you ſhould think ſhe knows them; but ſhe does not ſay ſhe does."’ BOSWELL. ‘"Mr. Harris, who was preſent, agreed with her."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Harris was laughing at her, Sir. Harris is a ſound ſullen ſcholar; he does not like interlopers. Harris, however, is a prig, and a bad prig ¹. I looked into his book, and thought he did not underſtand his own ſyſtem."’ BOSWELL. ‘"He ſays plain things in a formal and abſtract way, to be ſure; but his method is good: for to have clear notions upon any ſubject we muſt have recourſe to analytick arrange⯑ment."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Sir, it is what every body does, whether they will or no. But ſometimes things may be made darker by definition. I ſee a cow. I define her, Animal quadrupes ruminans cornutum. But a goat ruminates, and a cow may have no horns. Cow is plainer."’ BOSWELL. ‘"I think Dr. Franklin's definition of Man a good one—'A tool-making animal."’ JOHNSON. ‘"But many a man never made a tool: and ſuppoſe a man without arms, he could not make a tool."’

Talking of drinking wine, he ſaid, ‘"I did not leave off wine becauſe I could not bear it: I have drunk three bottles of port without being the worſe for it. Univerſity College has witneſſed this."’ BOSWELL. ‘"Why then, Sir, did you leave it off?"’ JOHNSON. ‘"Why, Sir, becauſe it is ſo much better for a man to be ſure that he is never to be intoxicated, never to loſe the power over himſelf. I ſhall not begin to drink wine again till I grow old, and want it."’ BOSWELL. ‘"I think, Sir, you once ſaid to me, that not to drink wine was a great deduction from life²’ JOHNSON. ‘"It is a diminution of pleaſure, to be ſure; but I do not ſay a diminution of happineſs. There is more happineſs in being rational."’ BOSWELL. ‘"But if we could have pleaſure always, ſhould not we be happy? The greateſt part of men would compound for pleaſure."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Suppoſing we could have pleaſure always, an intellectual man would not compound for it. The greateſt part of men would compound, becauſe the greateſt part of men are groſs."’ BOSWELL. ‘"I allow there may be greater pleaſure than from wine. I have had more pleaſure from your converſation. I have indeed; I aſſure you I have."’ JOHNSON. ‘"When we talk of pleaſure, we mean ſenſual pleaſure. When a man ſays he had pleaſure with a woman, he does not mean converſation, but ſomething of a very different nature. Philoſophers tell you, that pleaſure is contrary to happineſs. Groſs men prefer animal pleaſure. So [200] there are men who have preferred living among ſavages. Now what a wretch muſt he be, who is content with ſuch converſation as can be had among ſavages! You may remember an officer at Fort Auguſtus, who had ſerved in America, told us of a woman whom they were obliged to bind, in order to get her back from ſavage life."’ BOSWELL. ‘"She muſt have been an animal, a beaſt."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Sir, ſhe was a ſpeaking cat."’

I mentioned to him that I had become very weary in a company where I heard not a ſingle intellectual ſentence, except that ‘"a man who had been ſettled ten years in Minorca was become a much inferiour man to what he was in London, becauſe a man's mind grows narrow in a narrow place."’ JOHNSON. ‘"A man's mind grows narrow in a narrow place, whoſe mind is enlarged only becauſe he has lived in a large place: but what is got by books and thinking is preſerved in a narrow place as well as well as in a large place. A man cannot know modes of life as well in Minorca as in London; but he may ſtudy mathematicks as well in Minorca."’ BOSWELL. ‘"I don't know, Sir: if you had remained ten years in the Iſle of Col, you would not have been the man that you now are."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Yes, Sir, if I had been there from fifteen to twenty-five; but not if from twenty-five to thirty-five."’ BOSWELL. ‘"I own, Sir, the ſpirits which I have in London make me do every thing with more readineſs and vigour. I can talk twice as much in London as any where elſe."’

Of Goldſmith he ſaid, ‘"He was not an agreeable companion, for he talked always for fame. A man who does ſo never can be pleaſing. The man who talks to unburthen his mind is the man to delight you. An eminent friend of ours is not ſo agreeable as the variety of his knowledge would otherwiſe make him, becauſe he talks partly from oſtentation."’

Soon after our arrival at Thrale's, I heard one of the maids calling eagerly on another, to go to Dr. Johnſon. I wondered what this could mean. I afterwards learnt, that it was to give her a Bible which he had brought from London as a preſent to her.

He was for a conſiderable time occupied in reading ‘"Memoires de Fontenelle;"’ leaning and ſwinging upon the low gate into the court, without his hat.

I looked into Lord Kames's ‘"Sketches of the Hiſtory of Man;"’ and mentioned to Dr. Johnſon his cenſure of Charles the Fifth, for celebrating his funeral obſequies in his life-time, which, I told him, I had been uſed to think a ſolemn and affecting act. JOHNSON. ‘"Why, Sir, a man may diſ⯑poſe his mind to think ſo of that act of Charles; but it is ſo liable to [201] ridicule, that if one man out of ten thouſand laughs at it, he'll make the other nine thouſand nine hundred and ninety-nine laugh too."’ I could not agree with him in this.

Sir John Pringle had expreſſed a wiſh that I would aſk Dr. Johnſon's opinion what were the beſt Engliſh ſermons for ſtyle. I took an oppor⯑tunity to-day of mentioning ſeveral to him. Atterbury? JOHNSON. ‘"Yes, Sir, one of the beſt."’ BOSWELL. ‘"Tillotſon?"’ JOHNSON. ‘"Why not now. I ſhould not adviſe a preacher at this day to imitate Tillotſon's ſtyle; though I don't know; I ſhould be cautious of objecting to what has been applauded by ſo many ſuffrages.—South is one of the beſt, if you except his peculiarities, and his violence, and ſometimes coarſeneſs of language.—Seed has a very fine ſtyle; but he is not very theological.—Jortin's ſermons are very elegant.—Sherlock's ſtyle too is very elegant, though he has not made it his principal ſtudy.—And you may add Smallridge. All the latter preachers have a good ſtyle. Indeed, nobody now talks much of ſtyle: Every body compoſes pretty well. There are no ſuch unharmonious periods as there were a hundred years ago. I ſhould recommend Dr. Clarke's ſermons, were he orthodox. However, it is very well known where he was not orthodox, which was upon the doctrine of the Trinity, as to which he is a condemned heretick; ſo one is aware of it."’ BOSWELL. ‘"I like Ogden's ſermons on prayer very much, both for neatneſs of ſtyle and ſubtilty of reaſoning."’ JOHNSON. ‘"I ſhould like to read all that Ogden has written."’ BOSWELL. ‘"What I wiſh to know is, what ſermons afford the beſt ſpecimen of Engliſh pulpit eloquence."’ JOHNSON. ‘"We have no ſermons addreſſed to the paſſions that are good for any thing; if you mean that kind of eloquence."’ A CLERGYMAN. (whoſe name I do not recollect) ‘"Were not Dodd's ſermons addreſſed to the paſſions?"’ JOHNSON. ‘"They were nothing, Sir, be they addreſſed to what they may."’

At dinner, Mrs. Thrale expreſſed a wiſh to go and ſee Scotland. JOHNSON. ‘"Seeing Scotland, Madam, is only ſeeing a worſe England. It is ſeeing the flower gradually fade away to the naked ſtalk. Seeing the Hebrides, indeed, is ſeeing quite a different ſcene."’

Our poor friend, Mr. Thomas Davies, was ſoon to have a benefit at Drury⯑lane theatre, as ſome relief to his unfortunate circumſtances. We were all warmly intereſted for his ſucceſs, and had contributed to it. However, we thought there was no harm in having our joke when he could not be hurt by it. I propoſed that he ſhould be brought on to ſpeak a Prologue upon the occa⯑ſion; and I began to mutter fragments of what it might be: as, that when [202] now grown old, he was obliged to cry, ‘"Poor Tom's a-cold;"’—that he owned he had been driven from the ſtage by a Churchill, but that this was no diſgrace, for a Churchill had beat the French;—that he had been ſatyriſed as ‘"mouthing a ſentence as curs mouth a bone,"’ but he was now glad of a bone to pick.—‘"Nay, (ſaid Johnſon,) I would have him to ſay, 'Mad Tom is come to ſee the world again."’

He and I returned to town in the evening. Upon the road I endeavoured to maintain, in argument, that a landed gentleman is not under any obliga⯑tion to reſide upon his eſtate; and that by living in London he does no injury to his country. JOHNSON. ‘"Why, Sir, he does no injury to his country in general, becauſe the money which he draws from it gets back again in circulation; but to his particular diſtrict, his particular pariſh, he does an injury. All that he has to give away is not given to thoſe who have the firſt claim to it. And though I have ſaid that the money circulates back, it is a long time before that happens. Then, Sir, a man of family and eſtate ought to conſider himſelf as having the charge of a diſtrict, over which he is to diffuſe civility and happineſs."’

Next day I found him at home in the forenoon. He praiſed Delaney's ‘"Obſervations on Swift;"’ ſaid that his book and Lord Orrery's might both be true, though one viewed Swift more, and the other leſs favourably; and that, between both, we might have a complete notion of Swift.

Talking of a man's reſolving to deny himſelf the uſe of wine, from moral and religious conſiderations, he ſaid, ‘"He muſt not doubt about it. When one doubts as to pleaſure, we know what will be the concluſion. I now no more think of drinking wine, than a horſe does. The wine upon the table is no more for me, than for the dog that is under the table."’

On Thurſday, April 9, I dined with him at Sir Joſhua Reynolds's, with the Biſhop of St. Aſaph, (Dr. Shipley,) Mr. Allan Ramſay, Mr. Gibbon, Mr. Cambridge, and Mr. Langton. Mr. Ramſay had lately returned from Italy, and entertained us with his obſervations upon Horace's villa, which he had examined with great care. I reliſhed this much, as it brought freſh into my mind what I had viewed with great pleaſure thirteen years before. The Biſhop, Dr. Johnſon, and Mr. Cambridge, joined with Mr. Ramſay, in recollecting the various lines in Horace relating to the ſubject.

Horace's journey to Brunduſium being mentioned, Johnſon obſerved, that the brook which he deſcribes is to be ſeen now, exactly as at that time; [203] and that he had often wondered how it happened, that ſmall brooks, ſuch as this, kept the ſame ſituation for ages, notwithſtanding earthquakes, by which even mountains have been changed, and agriculture, which produces ſuch a variation upon the ſurface of the earth. CAMBRIDGE. ‘"A Spaniſh writer has this thought in a poetical conceit. After obſerving that moſt of the ſolid ſtructures of Rome are totally periſhed, while the Tiber remains the ſame, he adds, 'Lo que era Firme huió i ſolamente, 'Lo Fugitivo permanece i dura."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Sir, that is taken from Janus Vitalis: '—immota labeſ [...]unt; 'Et quae perpetuò ſunt agitata manent."’

The Biſhop ſaid, it appeared from Horace's writings that he was a cheerful contented man. JOHNSON. ‘"We have no reaſon to believe that, my Lord. Are we to think Pope was happy, becauſe he ſays ſo in his writings? We ſee in his writings what he wiſhed the ſtate of his mind to appear. Dr. Young, who pined for preferment, talks with contempt of it in his writings, and affects to deſpiſe every thing that he did not deſpiſe."’ BISHOP OF ST. ASAPH. ‘"He was like other chaplains, looking for vacancies: but that is not peculiar to the clergy. I remember when I was with the army, after the battle of Lafeldt, the officers ſeriouſly grumbled that no General was killed."’ CAMBRIDGE. ‘"We may believe Horace more when he ſays, 'Romae Tibur amem ventoſus Tibure Romam."’ BOSWELL. ‘"How hard is it that man can never be at reſt."’ RAMSAY. ‘"It is not in his nature to be at reſt. When he is at reſt he is in the worſt ſtate that he can be in, for he has nothing to agitate him. He is then like the man in the Iriſh ſong, 'There was an old fellow at Ballanacrazy, 'Who wanted a wife for to make him unaiſy."’ Goldſmith being mentioned, Johnſon obſerved that it was long before his merit came to be acknowledged. That he once complained to him, in ludicrous terms of diſtreſs, ‘"Whenever I write any thing, the publick make a point to know nothing about it:"’ but that his ‘"Traveller"’ brought him into high reputation. LANGTON. ‘"There is not one bad line in that poem; [204] not one of Dryden's careleſs verſes."’ SIR JOSHUA. ‘"I was glad to hear Charles Fox ſay it was one of the fineſt poems in the Engliſh language."’ LANGTON. ‘"Why was you glad? You ſurely had no doubt of this before."’ JOHNSON. ‘"No; the merit of 'The Traveller' is ſo well eſtabliſhed, that Mr. Fox's praiſe cannot augment it, nor his cenſure diminiſh it."’ SIR JOSHUA. ‘"But his friends may ſuſpect they had a too great partiality for him."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Nay, Sir, the partiality of his friends was all againſt him. It was with difficulty we could give him a hearing. Goldſmith had no ſettled notions upon any ſubject; ſo he talked always at random. It ſeemed to be his intention to blurt out whatever was in his mind, and ſee what would become of it. He was angry too when catched in an abſurdity; but it did not prevent him from falling into another the next minute. I remember Chamier, after talking with him for ſome time, ſaid, 'Well, I do believe he wrote this poem himſelf: and, let me tell you, that is believing a great deal.' Chamier once aſked him what he meant by ſlow, the laſt word in the firſt line of 'The Traveller,' 'Remote, unfriended, melancholy, ſlow.' Did he mean tardineſs of locomotion? Goldſmith, who would ſay ſome⯑thing without conſideration, anſwered, 'Yes.' I was ſitting by, and ſaid, 'No, Sir; you do not mean tardineſs of locomotion; you mean, that ſlug⯑giſhneſs of mind which comes upon a man in ſolitude. Chamier believed then that I had written the line, as much as if he had ſeen me write it. Goldſmith, however, was a man, who, whatever he wrote, did it better than any other man could do. He deſerved a place in Weſtminſter-Abbey, and every year he lived, would have deſerved it better. He had, indeed, been at no pains to fill his mind with knowledge. He tranſplanted it from one place to another; and it did not ſettle in his mind; ſo he could not tell what was in his own books."’

We talked of living in the country. JOHNSON. ‘"No wiſe man will go to live in the country, unleſs he has ſomething to do which can be better done in the country. For inſtance: if he is to ſhut himſelf up for a year to ſtudy a ſcience, it is better to look out to the fields, than to an oppoſite wall. Then, if a man walks out in the country, there is nobody to keep him from walking in again: but if a man walks out in London, he is not ſure when he ſhall walk in again. A great city is, to be ſure, the ſchool for ſtudying life; and 'The proper ſtudy of mankind is man,' as Pope obſerves."’ BOSWELL. [205] ‘"I fancy London is the beſt place in the world for ſociety; though I have heard that the very firſt ſociety of Paris is ſtill beyond any thing that we have here."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Sir, I queſtion if in Paris ſuch a company as is ſitting round this table could be got together in leſs than half a year. They talk in France of the felicity, of men and women living together: the truth is, that there the men are not higher than the women, they know no more than women do, and they are not held down in their converſation by the preſence of women."’ RAMSAY. ‘"Literature is upon the growth, it is in its ſpring in France. Here it is rather paſſee."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Literature was in France long before we had it. Paris was the ſecond city for the revival of letters: Italy had it firſt, to be ſure. What have we done for literature, equal to what was done by the Stephani and others in France. Our literature came to us through France. Caxton printed only two books, Chaucer and Gower, that were not tranſlations from the French; and Chaucer, we know, took much from the Italians. No, Sir, if literature be in its ſpring in France, it is a ſecond ſpring; it is after a winter. We are now before the French in literature; but we had it long after them. In England, any man who wears a ſword and a powdered wig is aſhamed to be illiterate. I believe it is not ſo in France. Yet there is, probably, a great deal of learning in France, becauſe they have ſuch a number of religious eſtabliſhments; ſo many men who have nothing elſe to do but to ſtudy. I do not know this; but I take it upon the common principles of chance. Where there are many ſhooters, ſome will hit."’

We talked of old age. Johnſon (now in his ſeventieth year) ſaid, ‘"It is a man's own fault, it is from want of uſe, if his mind grows torpid in old age."’ The Biſhop aſked, if an old man does not loſe faſter than he gets. JOHNSON. ‘"I think not, my Lord, if he exerts himſelf."’ One of the com⯑pany raſhly obſerved, that he thought it was happy for an old man that inſenſibility comes upon him▪ JOHNSON. (with a noble elevation and diſdain) ‘"No, Sir, I ſhould never be happy by being leſs rational."’ BISHOP OF ST. ASAPH. ‘"Your wiſh then, Sir, is [...]"’ JOHNSON. ‘"Yes, my Lord."’

His Lordſhip mentioned a charitable eſtabliſhment in Wales, where people were maintained, and ſupplied with every thing, upon the condition of their contributing the weekly produce of their labour; and he ſaid, they grew quite torpid for want of property. JOHNSON. ‘"They have no object for hope. Their condition cannot be better. It is rowing without a port."’

One of the company aſked him the meaning of the expreſſion in Juvenal, unius lacertae. JOHNSON. ‘"I think it clear enough; as much ground as one may have a chance to find a lizard upon."’

[206] Commentators have differed as to the exact meaning of the expreſſion by which the Poet intended to enſorce the ſentiment contained in the paſſage where theſe words occur. It is enough that they mean to denote even a very ſmall poſſeſſion, provided it be a man's own.

This ſeaſon there was a whimſical faſhion in the newſpapers of applying Shakſpeare's words to deſcribe living people well known in the world; which was done under the title of ‘"Modern Characters from Shakſpeare;"’ many of which were admirably adapted. The fancy took ſo much, that they were afterwards collected into a pamphlet. Somebody ſaid to Johnſon, acroſs the table, that he had not been in thoſe characters. ‘"Yes (ſaid he) I have. I ſhould have been ſorry to be left out."’ He then repeated what had been applied to him,

Miſs Reynolds not perceiving at once the meaning of this, he was obliged to explain it to her, which had ſomething of an aukward and ludicrous effect. ‘"Why, Madam, it has a reference to me as uſing big words, which require the mouth of a giant to pronounce them. Garagantua is the name of a giant in Rabelais."’ BOSWELL. ‘"But, Sir, there is another amongſt them for you: 'He would not flatter Neptune for his trident, 'Or Jove for his power to thunder."’ JOHNSON. ‘"There is nothing marked in that. No, Sir, Garagantua is the beſt."’ Notwithſtanding this eaſe and good humour, when I, a little while afterwards, repeated his farcaſm on Kenrick ³, which was received with applauſe, he aſked, ‘"Who ſaid that?"’ and on my ſuddenly anſwering, Garagantua, he looked ſerious, which was a ſufficient indication that he did not wiſh it to be kept up.

When we went to the drawing-room there was a rich aſſemblage. Beſides the company who had been at dinner, there were Mr. Garrick, Mr. Harris of Saliſbury, Dr. Percy, Dr. Burney, Honourable Mrs. Cholmondeley, Miſs Hannah More, &c. &c.

After wandering about in a kind of pleaſing diſtraction for ſome time, I got into a corner, with Johnſon, Garrick, and Harris. GARRICK. (to Harris) [207] ‘"Pray, Sir, have you read Potter's Aeſchylus?"’ HARRIS. ‘"Yes; and think it pretty."’ GARRICK. (to Johnſon) ‘"And what think you, Sir, of it?"’ JOHNSON. ‘"I thought what I read of it verbiage: but upon Mr. Harris's recommendation I will read a play. (To Mr. Harris.) Don't pre⯑ſcribe two."’ Mr. Harris ſuggeſted one, I do not remember which. JOHNSON. ‘"We muſt try its effect as an Engliſh poem; that is the way to judge of the merit of a tranſlation. Tranſlations are, in general, for people who cannot read the original."’ I mentioned the vulgar ſaying, that Pope's Homer was not a good repreſentation of the original. JOHNSON. ‘"Sir, it is the greateſt work of the kind that has ever been produced."’ BOSWELL. ‘"The truth is, it is impoſſible perfectly to tranſlate poetry. In a different language it may be the ſame tune, but it has not the ſame tone. Homer plays it on a baſſoon; Pope on a flagelet."’ HARRIS. ‘"I think heroick poetry is beſt in blank verſe; yet it appears that rhyme is eſſential to Engliſh poetry, from our deficiency in metrical quantities. In my opinion, the chief excellence of our language is numerous proſe."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Sir William Temple was the firſt writer who gave cadence to Engliſh proſe. Before his time they were careleſs of arrangement, and did not mind whether a ſentence ended with an important word or an inſignificant word, or with what part of ſpeech it was concluded."’ Mr. Langton, who now had joined us, commended Clarendon. JOHNSON. ‘"He is objected to for his parentheſes, his involved clauſes, and his want of harmony. But he is ſupported by his matter. It is, indeed, owing to a plethory of matter that his ſtyle is ſo faulty. Every ſubſtance (ſmiling to Mr. Harris) has ſo many accidents.—To be diſtinct, we muſt talk analytically. If we analyſe language, we muſt ſpeak of it grammatically; if we analyſe argument, we muſt ſpeak of it logically."’ GARRICK. ‘"Of all the tranſlations that ever were attempted, I think Elphinſton's Martial the moſt extraordinary. He conſulted me upon it, who am a little of an epigrammatiſt myſelf you know. I told him freely, 'You don't ſeem to have that turn.' I aſked him if he was ſerious; and finding he was, I adviſed him againſt publiſhing. Why his tranſlation is more difficult to underſtand than the original. I thought him a man of ſome talents; but he ſeems crazy in this."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Sir, you have done what I had not courage to do. But he did not aſk my advice, and I did not force it upon him to make him angry with me."’ GARRICK. ‘"But as a friend, Sir—"’ JOHNSON. ‘"Why ſuch a friend as I am with him—no."’ GARRICK. ‘"But if you ſee a friend going to tumble over a precipice?"’ JOHNSON. ‘"That is an extravagant caſe, Sir. You are ſure a friend will thank you for hindering him from tumbling over a precipice: [208] but, in the other caſe, I ſhould hurt his vanity, and do him no good. He would not take my advice. His brother-in-law, Strahan, ſent him a ſub⯑ſcription of fifty pounds, and ſaid he would ſend him fifty more, if he would not publiſh."’ GARRICK. ‘"What! eh! is Strahan a good judge of an Epigram? Is not he rather an obtuſe man, eh?"’ JOHNSON. ‘"Why, Sir, he may not be a judge of an Epigram: but you ſee he is a judge of what is not an Epigram."’ BOSWELL. ‘"It is eaſy for you, Mr. Garrick, to talk to an authour as you talked to Elphinſton: you, who have been ſo long the manager of a theatre, rejecting the plays of poor authours. You are an old Judge, who have often pronounced ſentence of death. You are a practiſed ſurgeon, who have often amputated limbs; and though this may have been for the good of your patients, they cannot like you. Thoſe who have under⯑gone a dreadful operation are not very fond of ſeeing the operator again."’ GARRICK. ‘"Yes, I know enough of that. There was a reverend gentle⯑man (Mr. Hawkins) who wrote a tragedy, the ſiege of ſomething, which I refuſed."’ HARRIS. ‘"So the ſiege was raiſed."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Aye, he came to me and complained; and told me, that Garrick ſaid his play was wrong in the concoction. Now, what is the concoction of a play?"’ (Here Garrick ſtarted, and twiſted himſelf, and ſeemed ſorely vexed; for Johnſon told me he believed the ſtory was true.) GARRICK. ‘"I—I—I—ſaid firſt concoction.’ JOHNSON. (ſmiling) ‘"Well, he left out firſt. And Rich, he ſaid, refuſed him in falſe Engliſh: he could ſhew it under his hand."’ GARRICK. ‘"He wrote to me in violent wrath for having refuſed his play: 'Sir, this is growing a very ſerious and terrible affair. I am reſolved to publiſh my play. I will appeal to the world; and how will your judgement appear?' I anſwered, 'Sir, notwithſtanding all the ſeriouſneſs, and all the terrours, I have no objection to your publiſhing your play; and as you live at a great diſtance, (Devonſhire, I believe,) if you will ſend me it, I will convey it to the preſs.' I never heard more of it, ha! ha! ha!"’

On Friday, April 10, I found Johnſon at home in the forenoon. We reſumed the converſation of yeſterday. He put me in mind of ſome of it which had eſcaped my memory, and enabled me to record it more perfectly than I otherwiſe could have done. He was much pleaſed with my paying ſo great attention to his recommendation in 1763, the beginning of our acquaintance, to keep a journal; and I could perceive he was ſecretly pleaſed to find ſo much of the fruit of his mind preſerved; and as he had been uſed to imagine and ſay that he always laboured when he ſaid a good thing—it [209] delighted him, on a review, to find that his converſation teemed with point and imagery.

I ſaid to him, ‘"You were yeſterday, Sir, in remarkably good humour: but there was nothing to offend you, nothing to produce irritation or violence. There was no bold offender. There was not one capital conviction. It was a maiden aſſize. You had on your white gloves."’

He found fault with our friend Langton for having been too ſilent. ‘"Sir, (ſaid I,) you will recollect, that he very properly took up Sir Joſhua for being glad that Charles Fox had praiſed Goldſmith's 'Traveller,' and you joined him."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Yes, Sir, I knocked Fox on the head, without cere⯑mony. Reynolds is too much under Fox and Burke at preſent. He is under the Fox ſtar and the Iriſh conſtellation. He is always under ſome planet."’ BOSWELL. ‘"There is no Fox ſtar."’ JOHNSON. ‘"But there is a dog ſtar."’ BOSWELL. ‘"They ſay, indeed, a fox and a dog are the ſame animal."’

I reminded him of a gentleman who, Mrs. Cholmondeley ſaid, was firſt talkative from affectation, and then ſilent from the ſame cauſe; that he firſt thought, ‘"I ſhall be celebrated as the livelieſt man in every company;"’ and then, all at once, ‘"O! it is much more reſpectable to be grave and look wiſe."’ ‘"He has reverſed the Pythagorean diſcipline, by being firſt talkative, and then ſilent. He reverſes the courſe of Nature too: he was firſt the gay butterfly, and then the creeping worm."’ Johnſon laughed loud and long at this expanſion and illuſtration of what he himſelf had told me.

We dined together with Mr. Scott (now Sir William Scott, his Majeſty's Advocate) at his chambers in the Temple, nobody elſe there. The company being ſmall, Johnſon was not in ſuch ſpirits as he had been yeſterday, and for a conſiderable time little was ſaid. At laſt he burſt forth, ‘"Subordina⯑tion is ſadly broken down in this age. No man, now, has the ſame authority which his father had—except a gaoler. No maſter has it over his ſervants: it is diminiſhed in our colleges; nay, in our grammar-ſchools."’ BOSWELL. ‘"What is the cauſe of this, Sir?"’ JOHNSON. ‘"Why the coming in of the Scotch."’ (laughing ſarcaſtically). BOSWELL. ‘"That is to ſay, things have been turned topſy turvey.—But your ſerious cauſe."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Why, Sir, there are many cauſes, the chief of which is, I think, the great increaſe of money. No man now depends upon the Lord of a Manour, when he can ſend to another country, and fetch proviſions. The ſhoe-black at the entry of my court does not depend on me. I can deprive him but of a penny a day, which he hopes ſomebody elſe will bring him; and that penny I [...] carry to another ſhoe-black, ſo the trade ſuffers nothing. I have explained, [210] in my 'Journey to the Hebrides,' how gold and ſilver deſtroy ſedual ſubordi⯑nation. But, beſides, there is a general relaxation of reverence. No ſon now depends upon his father as in former times. Paternity uſed to be con⯑ſidered as of itſelf a great thing, which had a right to many claims. That is, in general, reduced to very ſmall bounds. My hope is, that as anarchy produces tyranny, this extreme relaxation will produce freni ſtrictio."’

Talking of fame, for which there is ſo great a deſire, I obſerved how little there is of it in reality, compared with the other objects of human attention. ‘"Let every man recollect, and he will be ſenſible how ſmall a part of his time is employed in talking or thinking of Shakſpeare, Voltaire, or any of the moſt celebrated men that have ever lived, or are now ſuppoſed to occupy the attention and admiration of the world. Let this be extracted and com⯑preſſed; into what a narrow ſpace will it go!"’ I then ſlily introduced Mr. Garrick's fame, and his aſſuming the airs of a great man. JOHNSON. ‘"Sir, it is wonderful how little Garrick aſſumes. No, Sir, Garrick fortunam reverenter habet. Conſider, Sir: celebrated men, ſuch as you have mentioned, have had their applauſe at a diſtance; but Garrick had it daſhed in his face, founded in his ears, and went home every night with the plaudits of a thouſand in his cranium. Then, Sir, Garrick did not find, but made his way to the tables, the levees, and almoſt the bed-chambers, of the great. Then, Sir, Garrick had under him a numerous body of people; who, from fear of his power, and hopes of his favour, and admiration of his talents, were conſtantly ſubmiſſive to him. And here is a man who has advanced the dignity of his profeſſion. Garrick has made a player a higher character."’ SCOTT. ‘"And he is a very ſprightly writer too."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Yes, Sir; and all this ſupported by great wealth of his own acquiſition. If all this had happened to me, I ſhould have had a couple of fellows with long poles walk⯑ing before me, to knock down every body that ſtood in the way. Con⯑ſider, if all this had happened to Cibber or Quin, they'd have jumped over the moon.—Yet Garrick ſpeaks to us."’ (ſmiling). BOSWELL. ‘"And Garrick is a very good man, a charitable man."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Sir, a liberal man. He has given away more money than any man in England. There may be a little vanity mixed: but he has ſhewn, that money is not his firſt object."’ BOSWELL. ‘"Yet Foote uſed to ſay of him, that he walked out with an intention to do a generous action; but, turning the corner of a ſtreet, he met with the ghoſt of a halfpenny, which frightened him."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Why, Sir, that is very true, too; for I never knew a man of whom it could be ſaid with leſs certainty to-day, what he will do to-morrow, than Garrick; it depends [211] ſo much on his humour at the time."’ SCOTT. ‘"I am glad to hear of his liberality. He has been repreſented as very ſaving."’ JOHNSON. ‘"With his domeſtick ſaving we have nothing to do. I remember drinking tea with him long ago, when Peg Woffington made it, and he grumbled at her for making it too ſtrong ⁴. He had then begun to feel money in his purſe, and did not know when he ſhould have enough of it."’

On the ſubject of wealth, the proper uſe of it, and the effects of that art which is called oeconomy, he obſerved, ‘"It is wonderful to think how men of very large eſtates not only ſpend their yearly income, but are often actually in want of money. It is clear, they have not value for what they ſpend. Lord Shelburne told me, that a man of high rank, who looks into his own affairs, may have all that he ought to have, all that can be of any uſe, or appear with any advantage, for five thouſand pounds a year. There⯑fore, a great proportion muſt go in waſte; and, indeed, this is the caſe with moſt people, whatever their fortune is."’ BOSWELL. ‘"I have no doubt, Sir, of this. But how is it? What is waſte?"’ JOHNSON. ‘"Why, Sir, break⯑ing bottles, and a thouſand other things. Waſte cannot be accurately told, though we are ſenſible how deſtructive it is. Oeconomy on the one hand, by which a certain income is made to maintain a man genteelly, and waſte on the other, by which, on the ſame income, another man lives ſhabbily, cannot be defined. It is a very nice thing: as one man wears his coat out much ſooner than another, we cannot tell how."’

We talked of war. JOHNSON. ‘"Every man thinks meanly of himſelf for not having been a ſoldier, or not having been at ſea."’ BOSWELL. ‘"Lord Mansfield does not."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Sir, if Lord Mansfield were in a com⯑pany of General Officers and Admirals who have been in ſervice, he would ſhrink; he'd wiſh to creep under the table."’ BOSWELL. ‘"No; he'd think he could try them all."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Yes, if he could catch them: but they'd try him much ſooner. No, Sir; were Socrates and Charles the Twelfth of Sweden both preſent in any company, and Socrates to ſay, 'Follow me, and hear a lecture in philoſophy;' and Charles, laying his hand on his ſword, to ſay, 'Follow me, and dethrone the Czar;' a man would be aſhamed to follow Socrates. Sir, the impreſſion is univerſal: yet it is ſtrange. As to the ſailor, when you look down from the quarter-deck to the ſpa [...]e below, you ſee the utmoſt extremity of human miſery: ſuch crouding, ſuch filth, ſuch ſtench!"’ BOSWELL. ‘"Yet ſailors are happy."’ JOHNSON. ‘"They [212] are happy as brutes are happy, with a piece of freſh meat, with the groſſeſt ſenſuality. But, Sir, the profeſſion of ſoldiers and ſailors has the dignity of danger. Mankind reverence thoſe who have got over fear, which is ſo general a weakneſs."’ SCOTT. ‘"But is not courage mechanical, and to be acquired?"’ JOHNSON. ‘"Why yes, Sir, in a collective ſenſe. Soldiers conſider themſelves only as parts of a great machine."’ SCOTT. ‘"We find people fond of being ſailors."’ JOHNSON. ‘"I cannot account for that, any more than I can account for other ſtrange perverſions of imagination."’

His abhorrence of the profeſſion of a ſailor was uniformly violent; but in converſation he always exalted the profeſſion of a ſoldier. And yet I have, in my large and various collection of his writings, a letter to an eminent friend, in which he expreſſes himſelf thus: ‘"My god-ſon called on me lately. He is weary, and rationally weary, of a military life. If you can place him in ſome other ſtate, I think you may increaſe his happineſs, and ſecure his virtue. A ſoldier's time is paſſed in diſtreſs and danger, or in idle⯑neſs and corruption."’ Such was his cool reflection in his ſtudy; but when⯑ever he was warmed and animated by the preſence of company, he, like other philoſophers, whoſe minds are impregnated with poetical fancy, caught the common enthuſiaſm for ſplendid renown.

He talked of Mr. Charles Fox, of whoſe abilities he thought highly, but obſerved, that he did not talk much at our club. I have heard Mr. Gibbon re⯑mark, ‘"that Mr. Fox could not be afraid of Dr. Johnſon; yet he certainly was very ſhy of ſaying any thing in Dr. Johnſon's preſence."’ Mr. Scott now quoted what was ſaid of Alcibiades by a Greek poet, to which Johnſon aſſented.

He told us, that he had given Mrs. Montagu a catalogue of all Daniel Defoe's works of imagination; moſt, if not all of which, as well as of his other works, he now enumerated, allowing a conſiderable ſhare of merit to a man, who, bred a ſilverſmith, had written ſo variouſly and ſo well. Indeed, his ‘"Robinſon Cruſoe"’ is enough of itſelf to eſtabliſh his reputation.

He expreſſed great indignation at the impoſture of the Cock-lane Ghoſt, and related, with much ſatisfaction, how he had aſſiſted in detecting the cheat, and had publiſhed an account of it in the newſpapers. Upon this ſubject I incautiouſly offended him, by preſſing him with too many queſtions, and he ſhewed his diſpleaſure. I apologiſed, ſaying that ‘"I aſked queſtions in order to be inſtructed and entertained; I repaired eagerly to the fountain; but that the moment he gave me a hint, the moment he put a lock upon the well, I deſiſted."’—‘"But, Sir, (ſaid he,) that is forcing one to do a diſagreeable thing:"’ and he continued to rate me. ‘"Nay, Sir, (ſaid I,) when you have [213] put a lock upon the well, ſo that I can no longer drink, do not make the fountain of your wit play upon me and wet me."’

He ſometimes could not bear being teazed with queſtions. I was once preſent when a gentleman aſked ſo many, as, ‘"What did you do, Sir? What did you ſay, Sir?"’ that he at laſt grew enraged, and ſaid, ‘"I will not be put to the queſtion. Don't you conſider, Sir, that theſe are not the manners of a gentleman? I will not be baited with what, and why; what is this? what is that? why is a cow's tail long? why is a fox's tail buſhy?"’ The gentleman, who was a good deal out of countenance, ſaid, ‘"Why, Sir, you are ſo good, that I venture to trouble you."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Sir, my being ſo good is no reaſon why you ſhould be ſo ill."’

Talking of the Juſtitia hulk at Woolwich, in which criminals were puniſhed, by being confined to labour, he ſaid, ‘"I do not ſee that they are puniſhed by this: they muſt have worked equally had they never been guilty of ſtealing. They now only work; ſo, after all, they have gained; what they ſtole is clear gain to them; the confinement is nothing. Every man who works is confined: the ſmith to his ſhop, the tailor to his garret."’ BOSWELL. ‘"And Lord Mansfield to his Court."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Yes, Sir. You know the notion of confinement may be extended, as in the ſong, 'Every iſland is a priſon.' There is, in Dodſley's collection, a copy of verſes to the authour of that ſong."’

Smith's Latin verſes on Pococke, the great traveller, were mentioned. He repeated ſome of them, and ſaid they were Smith's beſt verſes.

He talked with an uncommon animation of travelling into diſtant countries; that the mind was enlarged by it, and that an acquiſition of dignity of character was derived from it. He expreſſed a particular enthuſiaſm with reſpect to viſiting the wall of China. I catched it for the moment, and ſaid I really believed I ſhould go and ſee the wall of China had I not children, of whom it was my duty to take care. ‘"Sir, (ſaid he,) by doing ſo, you would do what would be of importance in raiſing your children to eminence. There would be a luſtre reflected upon them from your ſpirit and curioſity. They would be at all times regarded as the children of a man who had gone to view the wall of China. I am ſerious, Sir."’

When we had left Mr. Scott's, he ſaid, ‘"Will you go home with me?"’ ‘"Sir, (ſaid I▪) it is late; but I'll go with you for three minutes."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Or four."’ We went to Mrs. Williams's room, where we found Mr. Allen the printer, who was the landlord of his houſe in Bolt-court, a worthy obliging man, and his very old acquaintance; and what was exceedingly [214] amuſing, though he was of a very diminutive ſize, he uſed, even in Johnſon's preſence, to imitate the ſtately periods and ſlow and ſolemn utterance of the great man. I this evening boaſted, that although I did not write what is called ſtenography, or ſhort-hand, in appropriated characters deviſed for the purpoſe, I had a method of my own of writing half words, and leaving out ſome altogether, ſo as yet to keep the ſubſtance and language of any diſcourſe which I heard ſo much in view, that I could give it very completely ſoon after taking it down. He defied me, as he had once defied an actual ſhort-hand writer; and he made the experiment by reading ſlowly and diſtinctly a part of Robertſon's ‘"Hiſtory of America,"’ while I endeavoured to write it in my way of taking notes. It was found that I had it very imperfectly; the con⯑cluſion from which was, that its excellence was principally owing to a ſtudied arrangement of words, which could not be varied or abridged without an eſſential injury.

On Sunday, April 12, I found him at home before dinner; Dr. Dodd's poem entitled ‘"Thoughts in Priſon,"’ was lying upon his table. This appearing to me an extraordinary effort by a man who was in Newgate for a capital crime, I was deſirous to hear Johnſon's opinion of it: to my ſurprize, he told me he had not read a line of it. I took up the book and read a paſſage to him. JOHNSON. ‘"Pretty well, if you are previouſly diſpoſed to like them."’ I read another paſſage, with which he was better pleaſed. He then took the book into his own hands, and having looked at the prayer at the end of it, he ſaid, ‘"What evidence is there that this was compoſed the night before he ſuffered. I do not believe it."’ He then read aloud where he prays for the King, &c. and obſerved, ‘"Sir, do you think that a man the night before he is to be hanged cares for the ſucceſſion of a royal family? Though he may have compoſed this prayer then. A man who has been canting all his life may cant to the laſt. And yet a man who has been refuſed a pardon after ſo much petitioning, would hardly be praying thus ſervently for the King."’

He and I, and Mrs. Williams, went to dine with the Reverend Dr. Percy. Talking of Goldſmith, Johnſon ſaid, he was very envious. I defended him, by obſerving that he owned it frankly upon all occaſions. JOHNSON. ‘"Sir, you are enforcing the charge. He had ſo much envy that he could not conceal it. He was ſo full of it that he overflowed. He talked of it to be ſure often enough. Now, Sir, what a man avows, he is not aſhamed to think; though many a man thinks, what he is aſhamed to avow. We are all envious naturally; but by checking envy we get the better of it. So we are all [215] thieves naturally; a child always tries to get at what it wants, the neareſt way; by good inſtruction and good habits this is cured, till a man has not even an inclination to ſeize what is another's; has no ſtruggle with himſelf about it."’

And here I ſhall record a ſcene of too much heat between Dr. Johnſon and Dr. Percy, which I ſhould have ſuppreſſed, were it not that it gave occaſion to diſplay the truely tender and benevolent heart of Johnſon, who as ſoon as he found a friend was at all hurt by any thing which he had ‘"ſaid in his wrath,"’ was not only prompt and deſirous to be reconciled, but exerted him⯑ſelf to make ample reparation.

Books of Travels having been mentioned, Johnſon praiſed Pennant very highly, as he did at Dunvegan, in the Iſle of Sky ⁵. Dr. Percy ſtill holding himſelf as the heir male of the ancient Percies, and having the warmeſt and moſt dutiful attachment to the noble houſe of Northumberland, could not ſit quietly and hear a man praiſed, who had ſpoken diſreſpectfully of Alnwick-Caſtle and the Duke's pleaſure-grounds, eſpecially as he thought meanly of his travels. He therefore oppoſed Johnſon eagerly. JOHNSON. ‘"Pennant in what he has ſaid of Alnwick, has done what he intended; he has made you very angry."’ PERCY. ‘"He has ſaid the garden is trim, which is repre⯑ſenting it like a citizen's parterre, when the truth is, there is a very large extent of fine turf and gravel walks."’ JOHNSON. ‘"According to your own account, Sir, Pennant is right. It is trim. Here is graſs cut cloſe, and gravel rolled ſmooth. Is not that trim? The extent is nothing againſt that; a mile may be as trim as a ſquare yard. Your extent puts me in mind of the citizens' enlarged dinner, two pieces of roaſt-beef, and two puddings. There is no variety, no mind exerted in laying out the ground, no trees."’ PERCY. ‘"He pretends to give the natural hiſtory of Northumberland, and yet takes no notice of the immenſe number of trees planted there of late."’ JOHNSON. ‘"That, Sir, has nothing to do with the natural hiſtory; that is civil hiſtory. A man who gives the natural hiſtory of the oak, is not to tell how many oaks have been planted in this place or that. A man who gives the natural hiſtory of the cow, is not to tell how many cows are milked at Iſlington. The animal is the ſame, whether milked in the Park or at Iſlington."’ PERCY. ‘"Pennant does not deſcribe well; a carrier who goes along the ſide of Lochlomond would deſcribe it better."’ JOHNSON. ‘"I think he deſcribes very well."’ PERCY. ‘"I travelled after him."’ JOHNSON. ‘"And I travelled [216] after him."’ PERCY. ‘"But, my good friend, you are ſhort-ſighted, and do not ſee ſo well as I do."’ I wondered at Dr. Percy's venturing thus. Dr. Johnſon ſaid nothing at the time; but inflammable particles were collecting for a cloud to burſt. In a little while Dr. Percy ſaid ſomething more in diſparagement of Pennant. JOHNSON. (pointedly) ‘"This is the reſentment of a narrow mind, becauſe he did not find every thing in Northumberland."’ PERCY. (feeling the ſtroke) ‘"Sir, you may be as rude as you pleaſe."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Hold, Sir! Don't talk of rudeneſs; remember, Sir, you told me (puffing hard with paſſion ſtruggling for a vent) I was ſhort-ſighted. We have done with civility. We are to be as rude as we pleaſe."’ PERCY. ‘"Upon my honour, Sir, I did not mean to be uncivil."’ JOHNSON. ‘"I can⯑not ſay ſo, Sir; for I did mean to be uncivil, thinking you had been uncivil."’ Dr. Percy roſe, ran up to him, and taking him by the hand, aſſured him affectionately that his meaning had been miſunderſtood; upon which a recon⯑ciliation inſtantly took place. JOHNSON. ‘"My dear Sir, I am willing you ſhall hang Pennant."’ PERCY. (reſuming the former ſubject) ‘"Pennant complains that the helmet is not hung out to invite to the hall of hoſpitality. Now I never heard that it was a cuſtom to hand out a helmet."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Hang him up, hang him up."’ BOSWELL. (humouring the joke) ‘"Hang out his ſkull inſtead of a helmet, and you may drink ale out of it in your hall of Odin, as he is your enemy; that will be truly ancient. There will be 'Northern Antiquities."’ JOHNSON. ‘"He's a Whig, Sir; a ſad dog (ſmiling at his own violent expreſſions, merely for political difference of opinion). But he's the beſt traveller I ever read; he obſerves more things than any one elſe does."’

I could not help thinking that this was too high praiſe of a writer who traverſed a wide extent of country in ſuch haſte, that he could put together only curt frittered fragments of his own, and afterwards procured ſupplemental intelligence from parochial miniſters, and others not the beſt qualified or moſt impartial narrators, whoſe ungenerous prejudice againſt the houſe of Stuart glares in miſrepreſentation; a writer, who at beſt treats merely of ſuperficial objects, and ſhews no philoſophical inveſtigation of character and manners, ſuch as Johnſon has exhibited in his maſterly ‘"Journey,"’ over part of the ſame ground; and who it ſhould ſeem from a deſire of ingratiating himſelf with the Scotch, has flattered the people of North-Britain ſo inordinately and with ſo little diſcrimination, that the judicious and candid amongſt them muſt be diſguſted, while they value more the plain, juſt, yet kindly report of Johnſon.

[217] We had a calm after the ſtorm, ſtaid the evening and ſupt, and were pleaſant and gay. But Dr. Percy told me he was very uneaſy at what had paſſed; for there was a gentleman there who had recently been admitted into the confidence of the Northumberland family, to whom he hoped to appear more reſpectable, by ſhewing him how intimate he was with the great Dr. Johnſon; and now the gentleman would go away with an impreſſion much to his diſadvantage, as if Johnſon treated him with diſregard, which might do him an eſſential injury. He begged I would mention this to Dr. Johnſon, which I afterwards did. His obſervation upon it was, ‘"This comes of ſtratagem; had he tole me that he wiſhed to appear to advantage before that gentleman, he ſhould have been at the top of the houſe all the time."’ He ſpoke of Dr. Percy in the handſomeſt terms. ‘"Then, Sir, (ſaid I,) may I be allowed to ſuggeſt a mode by which you may effectually counteract any unfavourable report of what paſſed. I will write a letter to you upon the ſubject of the unlucky conteſt of that day, and you will be kind enough to put in writing as an anſwer to that letter, what you have now ſaid, and in ſhort all that you can ſay to Dr. Percy's advantage; and as Lord Percy is to dine with us at General Paoli's ſoon, I will take an oppor⯑tunity to read the correſpondence in his Lordſhip's preſence.’ This friendly ſcheme was accordingly carried into execution without Dr. Percy's know⯑ledge. Johnſon's letter was ſtudiouſly framed to place Dr. Percy's un⯑queſtionable merit in the faireſt point of view; and I contrived that Lord Percy ſhould hear the correſpondence, by introducing it at General Paoli's, as an inſtance of Dr. Johnſon's kind diſpoſition towards one in whom his Lordſhip was intereſted. Thus our friend Percy was raiſed higher in the eſtimation of thoſe by whom he wiſhed moſt to be regarded. I breakfaſted the day after with him, and informed him of my ſcheme, and its happy completion, for which he thanked me in the warmeſt terms, and was highly delighted with Dr. Johnſon's letter in his praiſe, of which I gave him a copy. He ſaid, ‘"I would rather have this than degrees from all the Univerſities in Europe. It will be for me, and my children and grand-children."’ Dr. Johnſon having afterwards aſked me if I had given him a copy of it, and being told I had, was offended, and inſiſted that I ſhould get it back, which I did. As, however, he did not deſire me to deſtroy either the original or the copy, or forbid me to let it be ſeen, I think myſelf at liberty to apply to it his general declaration to me concerning his other letters, ‘"That he did not chooſe they ſhould be publiſhed in his life-time; but had no objection to their appearing after his death."’ I ſhall therefore [218] inſert this kindly correſpondence, having faithfully narrated the circumſtances accompanying it.

On Monday, April 13, I dined with Johnſon at Mr. Langton's, where were Dr. Porteus, then Biſhop of Cheſter, now of London, and Dr. Stinton. He [220] was at firſt in a very ſilent frame. Before dinner he ſaid nothing but ‘"Pretty baby,"’ to one of the children. Langton ſaid very well to me afterwards, that he could repeat Johnſon's converſation before dinner, as Johnſon had ſaid that he could repeat a complete chapter of ‘"The Natural Hiſtory of Iceland,"’ from the Daniſh of Horrebow, the whole of which was exactly thus:

At dinner we talked of another mode in the news-papers of giving modern characters in ſentences from the claſſicks, and of the paſſage

being well applied to Soame Jennyns; who, after having wandered in the wilds of infidelity, had returned to the Chriſtian faith. Mr. Langton aſked Johnſon as to the propriety of ſapientiae conſultus. JOHNSON. ‘"Though conſultus was primarily an adjective, like amicus it came to be uſed as a ſubſtantive. So we have Juris-conſultus, a conſult in law."’

We talked of the ſtyles of different painters, and how certainly a con⯑noiſſeur could diſtinguiſh them. I aſked if there was as clear a difference of ſtyles in language as in painting, or even as in hand-writing, ſo that the com⯑poſition of every individual may be diſtinguiſhed? JOHNSON. ‘"Yes. Thoſe who have a ſtyle of eminent excellence, ſuch as Dryden and Milton, can always be diſtinguiſhed."’ I had no doubt of this; but what I wanted to know was, whether there was really a peculiar ſtyle to every man what⯑ever, as there is certainly a peculiar hand-writing, a peculiar countenance, not widely different in many, yet always enough to be diſtinctive:

The Biſhop thought not; and ſaid, he ſuppoſed that many pieces in Dodſley's collection of poems, though all very pretty, had nothing appropriated in their ſtyle, and in that particular could not be at all diſtinguiſhed. JOHNSON. ‘"Why, Sir, I think every man whatever has a peculiar ſtyle, which may be [221] diſcovered by nice examination and compariſon with others: but a man muſt write a great deal to make his ſtyle obviouſly diſcernable. As logicians ſay, this appropriation of ſtyle is infinite in poteſtate, limited in actu."’

Mr. Topham Beauclerk came in the evening, and he and Dr. Johnſon and I ſtaid to ſupper. It was mentioned that Dr. Dodd had once wiſhed to be a member of THE LITERARY CLUB. JOHNSON. ‘"I ſhould be ſorry if any of our club were hanged. I will not ſay but ſome of them deſerve it ⁶."’ BEAUCLERK. (ſuppoſing this to be aimed at perſons for whom he had at that time a wonderful fancy, which, however, did not laſt long,) was irritated, and eagerly ſaid, ‘"You, Sir, have a friend (naming him) who deſerves to be hanged; for he ſpeaks behind their backs againſt thoſe with whom he lives on the beſt terms, and attacks them in the news-papers. He certainly ought to be kicked."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Sir, we all do this in ſome degree, 'Veniam petimus damuſque viciſſim.' To be ſure it may be done ſo much that a man may deſerve to be kicked."’ BEAUCLERK. ‘"He is very malignant."’ JOHNSON. ‘"No, Sir; he is not malignant. He is miſchievous, if you will. He would do no man an eſſential injury; he may, indeed, love to make ſport of people by vexing their vanity. I, however, once knew an old gentleman who was abſolutely malignant. He really wiſhed evil to others, and rejoiced at it."’ BOSWELL. ‘"The gentleman, Mr. Beauclerk, againſt whom you are ſo violent, is I know, a man of good principles."’ BEAUCLERK. ‘"Then he does not wear them out in practice."’

Dr. Johnſon, who as I have obſerved before, delighted in diſcrimination of character, and having a maſterly knowledge of human nature, was willing to take men as they are, imperfect and with a mixture of good and bad qualities, I ſuppoſe thought he had ſaid enough in defence of his friend; of whoſe merits, notwithſtanding his exceptionable points, he had a juſt value, and added no more on the ſubject.

On Tueſday, April 14, I dined with him at General Oglethorpe's, with General Paoli and Mr. Langton. General Oglethorpe declaimed againſt luxury. JOHNSON. ‘"Depend upon it, Sir, every ſtate of ſociety is as luxurious as it can be. Men always take the beſt they can get."’ OGLETHORPE. ‘"But the beſt depends much upon ourſelves; and if we can be as well▪ ſatisfied with plain things, we are in the wrong to accuſtom our palates to what is high-ſeaſoned and expenſive. What ſays Addiſon in his 'Cato▪' ſpeaking of the Numidian▪ [222]'Coarſe are his meals, the fortune of the chace,'Amid the running ſtream he ſlakes his thirſt,'Toils all the day, and at the approach of night,'On the firſt friendly bank he throws him down,'Or reſts his head upon a rock till morn;'And if the following day he chance to find'A new repaſt, or an untaſted ſpring,'Bleſſes his ſtars! and thinks it luxury!' Let us us have that kind of luxury, Sir, if you will."’ JOHNSON. ‘"But hold, Sir; to be merely ſatisfied is not enough. It is in refinement and elegance that the civilized man differs from the ſavage. A great part of our induſtry, and all our ingenuity is exerciſed in procuring pleaſure; and, Sir, a hungry man has not the ſame pleaſure in eating a plain dinner, that a hungry man has in eating a luxurious dinner. You ſee I put the caſe fairly. A hungry man may have as much, nay, more pleaſure in eating a plain dinner, than a man grown faſtidious has in eating a luxurious dinner. But I ſuppoſe the man who decides between the two dinners, to be equally a hungry man."’

Talking of different governments. JOHNSON. ‘"The more contracted that power is, the more eaſily it is deſtroyed. A country governed by a deſpot is an inverted cone. Government there cannot be ſo firm as when it reſts upon a broad baſis gradually contracted, as the government of Great-Britain, which is founded on the parliament, then is in the privy-council, then in the King."’ BOSWELL. ‘"Power when contracted into the perſon of a deſpot may be eaſily deſtroyed, as the prince may be cut off. So Caligula wiſhed that the people of Rome had but one neck, that he might cut them off at a blow."’ OGLETHORPE. ‘"It was of the Senate he wiſhed that. The Senate by its uſurpation controuled both the Emperour and the people. And don't you think that we ſee too much of that in our own parliament?"’

Dr. Johnſon endeavoured to trace the etymology of Maccaronick verſes, which he thought were of Italian invention from Maccaroni; but on being in⯑formed that this would infer that they were the moſt common and eaſy verſes, maccaroni being the moſt ordinary and ſimple food, he was at a loſs; for he ſaid, ‘"He rather ſhould have ſuppoſed it to import in its primitive ſignification, a compoſition of ſeveral things; for Maccaronick verſes are verſes made out of a mixture of different languages, that is, of one language with the termination of another."’ I ſuppoſe there is almoſt no language in any country where there is any learning, in which that motley ludicrous ſpecious of [223] compoſition may not be found. It is particularly droll in Low Dutch. The ‘"Polemomiddinia"’ of Drummond of Hawthornden, in which there is a jumble of many languages moulded, as if it were, all in Latin, is well known. Mr. Langton made us laugh heartily at one in the Grecian mould, by Joſhua Barnes, in which are to be found ſuch comical Anglo-Elleniſms as [...]. They were banged with clubs.

On Wedneſday, April 15, I dined with Dr. Johnſon at Mr. Dilly's, and was in high ſpirits, for I had been a good part of the morning with Mr. Orme, the able and eloquent hiſtorian of Hindoſtan, who expreſſed a high admiration of Johnſon. ‘"I do not care (ſaid he,) on what ſubject Johnſon talks; but I love better to hear him talk than any body. He either gives you new thoughts, or a new colouring. It is a ſhame to the nation that he has not been more liberally rewarded. Had I been George the Third, and thought as he did about America, I would have given Johnſon three hundred a year for his 'Taxation no Tyranny' alone."’ I repeated this, and Johnſon was much pleaſed with ſuch praiſe from ſuch a man as Orme.

At Mr. Dilly's to-day were Mrs. Knowles, the ingenious Quaker lady ⁷, Miſs Seward, the poeteſs of Lichfield, the Rev. Dr. Mayo, and the Rev. Mr. Beresford, Tutor to the Duke of Bedford. Before dinner Dr. Johnſon ſeized upon Mr. Charles Sheridan's ‘"Account of the late Revolution in Sweden,"’ and ſeemed to read it ravenouſly as if he devoured it, which was to all appearance his method of ſtudying. ‘"He knows how to read better than any one (ſaid Mrs. Knowles); he gets at the ſubſtance of a book directly; he tears out the heart of it."’ He kept it wrapt up in the table⯑cloth in his lap during the time of dinner, from an avidity to have one enter⯑tainment in readineſs when he ſhould have finiſhed another, reſembling (if I may uſe ſo coarſe a ſimile) a dog who holds a bone in his paws in reſerve, while he eats ſomething elſe which has been thrown to him.

The ſubject of cookery having been very naturally introduced at a table where Johnſon, who boaſted of the niceneſs of his palate, owned that ‘"he always found a good dinner,"’ he ſaid, ‘"I could write a better book of cookery than has ever yet been written; it ſhould be a book upon philoſo⯑phical principles. Pharmacy is now made much more ſimple. Cookery may be made ſo too. A preſcription which is now compounded of five in⯑gredients, had formerly fifty in it. So in cookery, if the nature of the [224] ingredients be well known, much fewer will do. Then as you cannot make bad meat good, I would tell what is the beſt butcher's meat, the beſt beef, the beſt pieces; how to chooſe young fowls; the proper ſeaſon of different ve⯑getables; and then how to roaſt and boil, and compound."’ DILLY. ‘"Mrs. Glaſſe's 'Cookery,' which is the beſt, was written by Dr. Hill. Half the trade know this."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Well, Sir. This ſhews how much better the ſubject of Cookery may be treated by a philoſopher. I doubt if the book be written by Dr. Hill; for, in Mrs. Glaſſe's 'Cookery,' which I have looked into, ſalt-petre and ſal-prunella are ſpoken of as different ſubſtances, whereas ſal-prunella is only ſalt-petre burnt on charcoal, and Hill could not be ignorant of this. However, as the greateſt part of ſuch a book is made by tranſcription, this miſtake may have been careleſsly adopted. But you ſhall ſee what a Book of Cookery I ſhall make! I ſhall agree with Mr. Dilly for the copy-right."’ MISS SEWARD. ‘"That would be Hercules with the diſtaff indeed."’ JOHNSON. ‘"No, Madam. Women can ſpin very well; but they cannot make a good book of Cookery."’

JOHNSON. ‘"O! Mr. Dilly—you muſt know that an Engliſh Benedictine Monk at Paris has tranſlated 'The Duke of Berwick's Memoirs,' from the original French, and has ſent them to me to ſell. I offered them to Strahan, who ſent them back with this anſwer:—'That the firſt book he had publiſhed was the Duke of Berwick's Life, by which he had loſt; and he hated the name.'—Now I honeſtly tell you, that Strahan has refuſed them; but I alſo honeſtly tell you, that he did it upon no principle, for he never looked into them."’ DILLY. ‘"Are they well tranſlated, Sir?"’ JOHNSON. ‘"Why, Sir, very well—in a ſtyle very current and very clear. I have written to the Bene⯑dictine to give me an anſwer upon two points—What evidence is there that the letters are authentick? For if they are not authentick they are nothing.—And how long will it be before the original French is publiſhed? For if the French edition is not to appear for a conſiderable time, the tranſlation will be almoſt as valuable as an original book. They will make two volumes in octavo; and I have undertaken to correct every ſheet as it comes from the preſs."’ Mr. Dilly deſired to ſee them, and ſaid he would ſend for them. He aſked Dr. Johnſon if he would write a Preface to them. JOHNSON. ‘"No, Sir. The Benedictines were very kind to me, and I'll do what I under⯑took to do; but I will not mingle my name with them. I am to gain nothing by them. I'll turn them looſe upon the world, and let them take their chance."’ DR. MAYO. ‘"Pray, Sir, are Ganganelli's letters authentick?"’ JOHNSON. ‘"No, Sir. Voltaire put the ſame queſtion to the editor of them, that I did to Macpherſon—Where are the originals?"’

[225] Mrs. Knowles affected to complain that men had much more liberty allowed them than women. JOHNSON. ‘"Why, Madam, women have all the liberty they ſhould wiſh to have. We have all the labour and the danger, and the women all the advantage. We go to ſea, we build houſes, we do every thing, in ſhort, to pay our court to the women."’ MRS. KNOWLES. ‘"The Doctor reaſons very wittily, but not convincingly. Now, take the inſtance of building; the maſon's wife, if ſhe is ever ſeen in liquor, is ruined. The maſon may get himſelf drunk as often as he pleaſes, with little loſs of character; nay, may let his wife and children ſtarve."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Madam, you muſt conſider, if the maſon does get himſelf drunk, and let his wife and children ſtarve, the pariſh will oblige him to find ſecurity for their maintenance. We have different modes of reſtraining evil. Stocks for the men, a ducking-ſtool for women, and a pound for beaſts. If we require more perfection from women than from ourſelves, it is doing them honour. And women have not the ſame temptations that we have: they may always live in virtuous company; men muſt mix in the world indiſcriminately. If a woman has no inclination to do what is wrong, being ſecured from it is no reſtraint to her. I am at liberty to walk into the Thames; but if I were to try it, my friends would reſtrain me in Bedlam, and I ſhould be obliged to them."’ MRS. KNOWLES. ‘"Still, Doctor, I cannot help thinking it a hardſhip that more indulgence is allowed to men than to women. It gives a ſuperiority to men, to which I do not ſee how they are entitled."’ JOHNSON. ‘"It is plain, Madam, one or other muſt have the ſuperiority. As Shakſpeare ſays, 'If two men ride on horſeback, one muſt ride behind."’ DILLY. ‘"I ſuppoſe, Sir, Mrs. Knowles would have them to ride in panniers, one on each ſide."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Then, Sir, the horſe would throw them both."’ MRS. KNOWLES. ‘"Well, I hope that in another world the ſexes will be equal."’ BOSWELL. ‘"That is being too ambitious, Madam. We might as well deſire to be equal with the angels. We ſhall all, I hope, be happy in a future ſtate, but we muſt not expect to be all happy in the ſame degree. It is enough if we be happy according to our ſeveral capacities. A worthy carman will get to heaven as well as Sir Iſaac Newton. Yet, though equally good, they will not have the ſame degreës of happineſs."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Proba⯑bly not."’

Upon this ſubject I had once before ſounded him, by mentioning the late Reverend Mr. Brown, of Utrecht's image; that a great and ſmall glaſs, though equally full, did not hold an equal quantity; which he threw out to refute David Hume's ſaying, that a little miſs, going to dance at a ball, in a [226] fine new dreſs, was as happy as a great oratour, after having made an elo⯑quent and applauded ſpeech. After ſome thought, Johnſon ſaid, ‘"I come over to the parſon."’ As an inſtance of coincidence of thinking, Mr. Dilly told me, that Dr. King, a late diſſenting miniſter in London, ſaid to him, upon the happineſs in a future ſtate of good men of different capacities, ‘"A pail does not hold ſo much as a tub; but, if it be equally full, it has no reaſon to complain. Every Saint in heaven will have as much happineſs as he can hold."’ Mr. Dilly thought this a clear, though a familiar illuſtration of the phraſe, ‘"One ſtar differeth from another in brightneſs."’

Dr. Mayo having aſked Johnſon's opinion of Soame Jennyns's ‘"View of the internal Evidence of the Chriſtian Religion;"’—JOHNSON. ‘"I think it a pretty book; not very theological indeed; and there ſeems to be an affectation of eaſe and careleſſneſs, as if it were not ſuitable to his character to be very ſerious about the matter."’ BOSWELL. ‘"He may have intended this to intro⯑duce his book the better among genteel people, who might be unwilling to read too grave a treatiſe. There is a general levity in the age. We have phyſicians now with bag-wigs; may we not have airy divines, at leaſt ſome⯑what leſs ſolemn in their appearance than they uſed to be?"’ JOHNSON. ‘"Jennyns might mean as you ſay."’ BOSWELL. ‘"You ſhould like his book, Mrs. Knowles, as it maintains, as you friends do, that courage is not a Chriſtian virtue."’ MRS. KNOWLES. ‘"Yes, indeed, I like him there; but I cannot agree with him, that friendſhip is not a Chriſtian virtue."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Why, Madam, ſtrictly ſpeaking, he is right. All friendſhip is preferring the intereſt of a friend, to the neglect, or, perhaps, againſt the intereſt of others; ſo that an old Greek ſaid, 'He that has friends has no friend.' Now Chriſtianity recommends univerſal benevolence, to conſider all men as our brethren, which is contrary to the virtue of friendſhip, as deſcribed by the ancient philoſophers. Surely, Madam, your ſect muſt approve of this; for, you call all men friends."’ MRS. KNOWLES. ‘"We are commanded to do good to all men, 'but eſpecially to them who are of the houſehold of Faith."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Well, Madam. The houſehold of Faith is wide enough."’ MRS. KNOWLES. ‘"But, Doctor, our Saviour had twelve Apoſtles, yet there was one whom he loved. John was called 'the diſciple whom JESUS loved."’ JOHNSON. (with eyes ſparkling benignantly) ‘"Very well, indeed, Madam. You have ſaid very well."’ BOSWELL. ‘"A fine application. Pray, Sir, had you ever thought of it?"’ JOHNSON. ‘"I had not, Sir."’

From this amiable and pleaſing ſubject, he, I know not how or why▪ made a ſudden tranſition to one upon which he was a violent aggreſſor; for he [227] ſaid, ‘"I am willing to love all mankind, except an American:"’ and his inflam⯑mable corruption burſting into horrid fire, he ‘"breathed out threatenings and ſlaughter;"’ calling them, ‘"Raſcals—Robbers—Pirates;"’ and exclaiming, he'd ‘"burn and deſtroy them."’ Miſs Seward, looking to him with mild but ſteady aſtoniſhment, ſaid, ‘"Sir, this is an inſtance that we are always moſt violent againſt thoſe whom we have injured."’—He was irritated ſtill more by this delicate and keen reproach; and roared out another tremendous volley, which one might fancy could be heard acroſs the Atlantick. During this tempeſt I ſat in great uneaſineſs, lamenting his heat of temper; till, by degrees, I diverted his attention to other topicks.

DR. MAYO. (to Dr. Johnſon) ‘"Pray, Sir, have you read Edwards, of New England, on Grace?"’ JOHNSON. ‘"No, Sir."’ BOSWELL. ‘"It puzzled me ſo much as to the freedom of the human will, by ſtating, with wonderful acute ingenuity, our being actuated by a ſeries of motives which we cannot reſiſt, that the only relief I had was to forget it."’ MAYO. ‘"But he makes the proper diſtinction between moral and phyſical neceſſity."’ BOSWELL. ‘"Alas, Sir, they come both to the ſame thing. You may be bound as hard by chains when covered by leather, as when the iron appears. The argument for the moral neceſſity of human actions is always, I obſerve, fortified by ſuppoſing univerſal preſcience to be one of the attributes of the Deity."’ JOHNSON. ‘"You are ſurer that you are free, than you are of preſcience; you are ſurer that you can lift up your finger or not as you pleaſe, than you are of any concluſion from a deduction of reaſoning. But let us conſider a little the objection from preſcience. It is certain I am either to go home to-night or not; that does not prevent my freedom."’ BOSWELL. ‘"That it is certain you are either to go home or not does not, prevent your freedom; becauſe the liberty of choice between the two is compatible with that certainty. But if one of theſe events be certain now, you have no future power of volition. If it be certain you are to go home to-night, you muſt go home."’ JOHNSON. ‘"If I am well acquainted with a man, I can judge with great probability how he will act in any caſe, without his being reſtrained by my judging. GOD may have this probability increaſed to certainty."’ BOSWELL. ‘"When it is increaſed to certainty freedom ceaſes, becauſe that cannot be certainly ſoreknown which is not certain at the time; but if it be certain at the time, it is a contradiction in terms to maintain that there can be afterwards any contingency dependent upon the exerciſe of will or any thing elſe."’ JOHNSON. ‘"All theory is againſt the freedom of the will, all expe⯑rience for it."’—I did not puſh the ſubject any farther. I was glad to find [228] him ſo mild in diſcuſſing a queſtion of the moſt abſtract nature, which is involved with theological tenets, which he generally would not ſuffer to be in any degree oppoſed ⁸.

He as uſual defended luxury; ‘"You cannot ſpend money in luxury without doing good to the poor. Nay, you do more good to them by ſpending it in luxury than by giving it; for by ſpending it in luxury you make them exert induſtry, whereas by giving it you keep them idle. I own, indeed, there may be more virtue in giving it immediately in charity than in ſpending it in luxury; though there may be a pride in that too."’ Miſs Seward aſked if this was not Mandeville's doctrine of ‘"private vices publick benefits."’ JOHNSON. ‘"The fallacy of that book is, that Mandeville defines neither vices nor benefits. He reckons among vices every thing that gives pleaſure. He takes the narroweſt ſyſtem of morality, monaſtick morality, which holds pleaſure itſelf to be a vice, ſuch as eating ſalt with our fiſh, becauſe it makes it taſte better; and he reckons wealth as a publick benefit, which is by no means always true. Pleaſure of itſelf is not a vice. Having a garden, which we all know to be perfectly innocent, is a great pleaſure. At the ſame time, in this ſtate of being there are many pleaſures vices, which however are ſo immediately agreeable that we can hardly abſtain from them. The happineſs of Heaven will be, that pleaſure and virtue will be perfectly conſiſtent. Mandeville puts the caſe of a man who gets drunk at an alehouſe; and ſays it is a publick benefit, becauſe ſo much money is got by it to the publick. But it muſt be conſidered, that all the good gained by this, through the gradation of alehouſe-keeper, brewer, maltſter, and farmer, is overbalanced by the evil cauſed to the man and his family by his getting drunk. This is the way to try what is vicious, by aſcertaining whether more evil than good is produced by it upon the whole, which is the caſe in all vice. It may happen that good is produced by vice; but not as vice; for inſtance, a robber may take money from its owner, and give it to one who will make a better uſe of it. Here is good produced; but not by the robbery as robbery, but as tranſlation of property. I read Mandeville forty, or I believe fifty years ago. He did not puzzle me; he opened my views into real life very much. No, it is clear that the happineſs of ſociety depends on virtue. In Sparta theft was allowed by general conſent; theft, therefore, was there not a crime, [289] but then there was no ſecurity; and what a life muſt they have had when there was no ſecurity. Without truth there muſt be a diſſolution of ſociety. As it is, there is ſo little truth that we are almoſt afraid to truſt our ears; but how ſhould we be, if falſehood were multiplied ten times? Society is held together by communication and information; and I remember this remark of Sir Thomas Brown's, 'Do the devils lie? No; for then Hell could not ſubſiſt."’

Talking of Miſs—, a literary lady, he ſaid, ‘"I was obliged to ſpeak to Miſs Reynolds, to let her know that I deſired ſhe would not flatter me ſo much."’ Somebody now obſerved, ‘"She flatters Garrick."’ JOHNSON. ‘"She is in the right to flatter Garrick. She is in the right for two reaſons; firſt, becauſe ſhe has the world with her, who have been praiſing Garrick theſe thirty years; and ſecondly, becauſe ſhe is rewarded for it by Garrick. Why ſhould ſhe flatter me? I can do nothing for her. Let her carry her praiſe to a better market. (Then turning to Mrs. Knowles) You, Madam, have been flattering me all the evening; I wiſh you would give Boſwell a little now. If you knew his merit as well as I do, you would ſay a great deal; he is the beſt travelling companion in the world."’

Somebody mentioned the Reverend Mr. Maſon's proſecution of Mr. Murray, the bookſeller, for having inſerted in a collection of ‘"Gray's Poems,"’ only fifty lines, of which Mr. Maſon had ſtill the excluſive property, under the ſtatute of Queen Anne; and that Mr. Maſon had perſevered, notwith⯑ſtanding his being requeſted to name [...]is own terms of compenſation ⁹. Johnſon ſignified his diſpleaſure at Mr. Maſon's conduct very ſtrongly; but added, by way of ſhewing that he was not ſurprized at it, ‘"Maſon's a Whig."’ MRS. KNOWLES. (not hearing diſtinctly) ‘"What! a Prig, Sir?"’ JOHNSON. ‘"Worſe, Madam; a Whig! But he is both."’

I expreſſed a horrour at the thought of death. MRS. KNOWLES. ‘"Nay, thou ſhould'ſt not have a horrour for what is the gate of life."’ JOHNSON. (ſtanding upon the hearth rolling about, with a ſerious▪ ſolemn, and ſome⯑what gloomy air) ‘"No rational man can die without uneaſy apprehenſion.▪’ MRS. KNOWLES. ‘"The Scriptures tell us, 'The righteous ſhall have hope in his death."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Yes, Madam; that is, he ſhall not have deſpair. But, conſider, his hope of ſalvation muſt be founded on the terms on which it is promiſed, that the mediation of our SAVIOUR ſhall be applied to us, namely, obedience; and where obedience has failed, then as ſuppletory to it, repentance. [230] But what man can ſay that his obedience has been ſuch, as he would approve of in another, or even in himſelf upon cloſe examination, or that his re⯑pentance has not been ſuch as to require being repented of? No man can be ſure that his obedience and repentance will obtain ſalvation."’ MRS. KNOWLES. ‘"But divine intimation of acceptance may be made to the ſoul."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Madam, it may▪ but I ſhould not think the better of a man who ſhould tell me on his death-bed he was ſure of ſalvation. A man cannot be ſure himſelf that he has divine intimation of acceptance; much leſs can he make others ſure that he has it."’ BOSWELL. ‘"Then, Sir, we muſt be contented to acknowledge that death is a terrible thing."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Yes, Sir. I have made no approaches to a ſtate which can look on it as not terrible."’ MRS. KNOWLES. (ſeeming to enjoy a pleaſing ſerenity in the perſuaſion of benignant divine light) ‘"Does not St. Paul ſay, 'I have fought the good fight of faith, I have finiſhed my courſe; henceforth is laid up for me a crown of life'?"’ JOHNSON. ‘"Yes, Madam; but here was a man inſpired, a man who had been converted by ſupernatural interpoſition."’ BOSWELL. ‘"In proſpect death is dreadful; but in fact we find that people die eaſy."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Why, Sir, moſt people have not thought much of the matter, ſo cannot ſay much, and it is ſuppoſed they die eaſy. Few believe it certain they are then to die; and thoſe who do, ſet themſelves to behave with reſo⯑lution, as a man does who is going to be hanged. He is not the leſs unwil⯑ling to be hanged."’ MISS SEWARD. ‘"There is one mode of the fear of death, which is certainly abſurd; and that is the dread of annihilation, which is only a pleaſing ſleep without a dream."’ JOHNSON. ‘"It is neither pleaſing, nor ſleep; it is nothing. Now mere exiſtence is ſo much better than nothing, that one would rather exiſt even in pain, than not exiſt."’ BOSWELL. ‘"If annihilation be nothing, then exiſting in pain is not a comparative ſtate, but is a poſitive evil, which I cannot think we ſhould chooſe. I muſt be allowed to differ here; and it would leſſen the hope of a future ſtate founded on the argument, that the Supreme Being, who is good as he is great, will here⯑after compenſate for our preſent ſufferings in this life. For if exiſtence, ſuch as we have it here, be comparatively a good, we have no reaſon to com⯑plain, though no more of it ſhould be given to us. But if our only ſtate of exiſtence were in this world, then we might with ſome reaſon complain that we are ſo diſſatisfied with our enjoyments compared with our deſires."’ JOHNSON. ‘"The lady confounds annihilation, which is nothing, with the appre⯑henſion of it, which is dreadful. It is in the apprehenſion of it that the horrour of annihilation conſiſts."’

[231] Of John Weſley he ſaid, ‘"He can talk well on any ſubject."’ BOSWELL. ‘"Pray, Sir, what has he made of his ſtory of a ghoſt?"’ JOHNSON. ‘"Why, Sir, he believes it; but not on ſufficient authority. He did not take time enough to examine the girl. It was at Newcaſtle, where the ghoſt was ſaid to have appeared to a young woman ſeveral times, mentioning ſomething about the right to an old houſe, adviſing application to be made to an attorney, which was done; and, at the ſame time, ſaying the attorney would do nothing, which proved to be the fact. 'This (ſays John) is a proof that a ghoſt knows our thoughts.' Now (laughing) it is not neceſſary to know our thoughts to tell that an attorney will ſometimes do nothing. Charles Weſley, who is a more ſtationary man, does not believe the ſtory. I am ſorry that John did not take more pains to inquire into the evidence for it."’ MISS SEWARD. (with an incredulous ſmile) ‘"What, Sir! about a ghoſt?"’ JOHNSON. (with ſolemn vehemence) ‘"Yes, Madam: this is a queſtion which, after five thouſand years, is yet undecided; a queſtion, whether in theology or philoſophy, one of the moſt important that can come before the human underſtanding."’

Mrs. Knowles mentioned, as a proſelyte to Quakeriſm, Miſs—, a young lady well known to Dr. Johnſon, for whom he had ſhewn much affection; while ſhe ever had, and ſtill retained, a great reſpect for him. Mrs. Knowles at the ſame time took an opportunity of letting him know ‘"that the amiable young creature was ſorry at finding that he was offended at her leaving the Church of England and embracing a ſimpler faith;"’ and, in the gentleſt and moſt perſuaſive manner, ſolicited his kind indulgence for what was ſincerely a matter of conſcience. JOHNSON. (frowning very angrily) ‘"Madam, ſhe is an odious wench. She could not have any proper conviction that it was her duty to change her religion, which is the moſt important of all ſubjects, and ſhould be ſtudied with all care, and with all the helps we can get. She knew no more of the Church which ſhe left, and that which ſhe embraced, than ſhe did of the difference between the Copernican and Ptolemaick ſyſtems."’ MRS. KNOWLES. ‘"She had the New Teſtament before her."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Madam, ſhe could not underſtand the New Teſtament, the moſt difficult book in the world, for which the ſtudy of a life is required."’ MRS. KNOWLES. ‘"It is clear as to eſſentials."’ JOHNSON. ‘"But not as to controverſial points. The heathens were eaſily converted, becauſe they had nothing to give up; but we ought not, without very ſtrong conviction indeed, to deſert the religion in which we [232] have been educated. That is the religion given you, the religion in which it may be ſaid Providence has placed you. If you live conſcientiouſly in that religion, you may be ſafe. But errour is dangerous indeed, if you err when you chooſe a religion for yourſelf."’ MRS. KNOWLES. ‘"Muſt we then go by implicit faith?"’ JOHNSON. ‘"Why, Madam, the greateſt part of our knowledge is implicit faith; and as to religion, have we heard all that a diſciple of Confucius, all that a Mahometan can ſay for himſelf?"’ He then roſe again into paſſion, and attacked the young proſelyte in the ſevereſt terms of reproach, ſo that both the ladies ſeemed to be much ſhocked.

We remained together till it was pretty late. Notwithſtanding occaſional exploſions of violence, we were all delighted upon the whole with Johnſon. I compared him at this time to a warm Weſt-Indian climate, where you have a bright ſun, quick vegetation, luxuriant foliage, luſcious fruits; but where the ſame heat ſometimes produces thunder, lightening, and earthquakes in a terrible degree.

April 17, being Good-Friday, I waited on Johnſon as uſual. I obſerved at breakfaſt that although it was a part of his abſtemious diſcipline on this moſt ſolemn faſt, to take no milk in his tea, yet when Mrs. Deſmoulins inadvertently poured it in, he did not reject it. I talked of the ſtrange indeciſion of mind, and imbecillity in the common occurrences of life, which we may obſerve in ſome people. JOHNSON. ‘"Why, Sir, I am in the habit of getting others to do things for me."’ BOSWELL. ‘"What, Sir! have you that weakneſs?"’ JOHNSON. ‘"Yes, Sir. But I always think afterwards I ſhould have done better for myſelf."’

I told him that at a gentleman's houſe where there was thought to be ſuch extravagance or bad management, that he was living much beyond his income, his lady had objected to the cutting of a pickled mango, and that I had taken an opportunity to aſk the price of it, and found it was only two ſhillings; ſo here was a very poor ſaving. JOHNSON. ‘"Sir, that is the blundering oeconomy of a narrow underſtanding. It is ſtopping one hole in a ſieve."’

I expreſſed ſome inclination to publiſh an account of my Travels upon the continent of Europe, for which I had a variety of materials collected. JOHNSON. ‘"I do not ſay, Sir, you may not publiſh your travels; but I give you my opinion, that you would leſſen yourſelf by it. What can you tell of countries ſo well known as thoſe upon the continent of Europe, which you have viſited?"’ BOSWELL. ‘"But I can give an entertaining narrative, with [233] many incidents, anecdotes, jeux d'eſprit, and remarks, ſo as to make very pleaſant reading."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Why, Sir, moſt modern travellers in Europe who have publiſhed their travels, have been laughed at: I would not have you added to the number ¹. The world is now not contented to be merely enter⯑tained by a traveller's narrative; they want to learn ſomething. Now ſome of my friends aſked me why I did not give ſome account of my travels in France. The reaſon is plain; intelligent readers had ſeen more of France than I had. You might have liked my Travels in France, and THE CLUB might have liked them; but upon the whole there would have been more ridicule than good pro⯑duced by them."’ BOSWELL. ‘"I cannot agree with you, Sir. People would like to read what you ſay of any thing. Suppoſe a face has been painted by fifty painters before; ſtill we love to ſee it done by Sir Joſhua."’ JOHNSON. ‘"True, Sir, but Sir Joſhua cannot paint a face when he has not time to look on it."’ BOSWELL. ‘"Sir, a ſketch of any ſort by him is valuable. And, Sir, to talk to you in your own ſtyle (raiſing my voice, and ſhaking my head,) you ſhould have given us your Travels in France. I am ſure I am right, and there's an end on't."’

I ſaid to him that it was certainly true as my friend Dempſter had obſerved in his letter to me upon the ſubject, that a great part of what was in his ‘"Journey to the Weſtern Iſlands of Scotland,"’ had been in his mind before he left London. JOHNSON. ‘"Why, yes, Sir, the topicks were; and books of travels will be good in proportion to what a man has previouſly in his mind; his knowing what to obſerve; his power of contraſting one mode of life with another. As the Spaniſh proverb ſays, 'He, who would bring home the wealth of the Indies, muſt carry the wealth of the Indies with him.' So it is in travelling; a man muſt carry knowledge with him if he would bring home knowledge."’ BOSWELL. ‘"The proverb, I ſuppoſe, Sir, means, he muſt carry a large ſtock with him to trade with."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Yes, Sir."’

It was a delightful day: as we walked to St. Clement's church, I again remarked that Fleet-ſtreet was the moſt cheerful ſcene in the world. ‘"Fleet-ſtreet (ſaid I,) is in my mind more delightful than Tempé."’ JOHNSON▪ ‘"Aye, Sir; but let it be compared with Mull."’

There was a very numerous congregation to-day at St. Clement's church, which Dr. Johnſon ſaid he obſerved with pleaſure.

[234] And now I am to give a pretty full account of one of the moſt curious incidents in Johnſon's life, of which he himſelf has made the following minute on this day: ‘"In my return from church, I was accoſted by Edwards, an old fellow-collegian, who had not ſeen me ſince 1729. He knew me, and aſked if I remembered one Edwards; I did not at firſt recollect the name, but gradually as we walked along, recovered it, and told him a converſation that had paſſed at an alehouſe between us. My purpoſe is to continue our acquaintance ²."’

It was in Butcher-row that this meeting happened. Mr. Edwards, who was a decent-looking elderly man in grey clothes, and a wig of many curls, accoſted Johnſon with familiar confidence, knowing who he was, while Johnſon returned his ſalutation with a courteous formality, as to a ſtranger. But as ſoon as Edwards had brought to his recollection their having been at Pembroke-College together nine-and-thirty years ago, he ſeemed much pleaſed, aſked where he lived, and ſaid he ſhould be glad to ſee him in Bolt-Court. EDWARDS. ‘"Ah, Sir! we are old men now."’ JOHNSON. (who never liked to think of being old) ‘"Don't let us diſcourage one another."’ EDWARDS. ‘"Why Doctor you look ſtout and hearty, I am happy to ſee you ſo; for the news-papers told us you were very ill."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Aye, Sir, they are always telling lies of us old fellows."’

Wiſhing to be preſent at more of ſo ſingular a converſation as that between two fellow collegians, who had lived near forty years in London without ever having chanced to meet, I whiſpered to Mr. Edwards that Dr. Johnſon was going home, and that he had better accompany him now. So Edwards walked along with us, I eagerly aſſiſting to keep up the con⯑verſation. Mr. Edwards informed Dr. Johnſon that he had practiſed long as a ſolicitor in Chancery, but that he now lived in the country upon a little farm about ſixty acres, juſt by Stevenage in Hertfordſhire, and that he came to London (to Barnard's Inn, No. 6,) generally twice a week. Johnſon appearing to be in a reverie, Mr. Edwards addreſſed himſelf to me, and expa⯑tiated on the pleaſure of living in the country. BOSWELL. ‘"I have no notion of this, Sir. What you have to entertain you, is, I think, exhauſted in half an hour."’ EDWARDS. ‘"What! don't you love to have hope realiſed? I ſee my graſs, and my corn, and my trees growing. Now, for inſtance, I am curious to ſee if this froſt has not nipped my fruit trees."’ JOHNSON. (who we did not imagine was attending) ‘"You find, Sir, you have fears as well as hopes."’—So well did he ſee the whole, when another ſaw but the half of a ſubject.

[235] When we got to Dr. Johnſon's houſe, and were ſeated in his library, the dialogue went on admirably. EDWARDS. ‘"Sir, I remember you would not let us ſay prodigious at College. For even then, Sir, (turning to me,) he was delicate in language, and we all feared him ²."’ JOHNSON. (to Edwards) ‘"From your having practiſed the law long, Sir, I preſume you muſt be rich."’ EDWARDS. ‘"No, Sir, I got a good deal of money; but I had a number of poor relations to whom I gave a great part of it."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Sir, you have been rich in the moſt valuable ſenſe of the word."’ EDWARDS. ‘"But I ſhall not die rich."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Nay, ſure, Sir, it is better to live rich than to die rich."’ EDWARDS. ‘"I wiſh I had continued at College."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Why do you wiſh that, Sir?"’ EDWARDS. ‘"Becauſe I think I ſhould have had a much eaſier life than mine has been. I ſhould have been a parſon, and had a good living, like Bloxam and ſeveral others, and lived comfortably."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Sir, the life of a parſon, of a conſcientious clergyman, is not eaſy. I have always conſidered a clergyman as the father of a larger family than he is able to maintain. I would rather have Chancery ſuits upon my hands than the cure of ſouls. No, Sir, I do not envy a clergyman's life as an eaſy life, nor do I envy the clergyman who makes it an eaſy life."’—Here taking himſelf up all of a ſudden, he exclaimed, ‘"O! Mr. Edwards! I'll convince you that I recollect you. Do you remember our drinking together at an alehouſe near Pembroke gate. At that time you told me of the Eton boy, who, when verſes on our SAVIOUR'S turning water into wine were pre⯑ſcribed as an exerciſe, brought up a ſingle line, which was highly admired: 'Vidit et erubuit lympha pudica DEUM.' and I told you of another fine line in 'Camden's Remains,' an eulogy upon one of our Kings, who was ſucceeded by his ſon, a prince of equal merit: 'Mira cano, Sol occubuit, nox nulla ſecuta eſt."’

EDWARDS. ‘"You are a philoſopher, Dr. Johnſon. I have tried too in my time to be a philoſopher; but, I don't know how, cheerfulneſs was always breaking in."’—Mr. Burke, Sir Joſhua Reynolds, Mr. Courtenay, Mr. Malone, and, indeed, all the eminent men to whom I have mentioned this, have thought it an exquiſite trait of character. The truth is, that philoſophy, [236] like religion, is too generally ſuppoſed to be hard and ſevere, at leaſt ſo grave as to exclude all gaiety.

EDWARDS. ‘"I have been twice married, Doctor. You, I ſuppoſe, have never known what it was to have a wife."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Sir, I have known what it was to have a wife, and (in a ſolemn tender faultering tone) I have known what it was to loſe a wife.—It had almoſt broke my heart."’

EDWARDS. ‘"How do you live, Sir? For my part, I muſt have my regular meals, and a glaſs of good wine. I find I require it."’ JOHNSON. ‘"I now drink no wine, Sir. Early in life I drank wine: for many years I drank none. I then for ſome years drank a great deal."’ EDWARDS. ‘"Some hogſheads, I warrant you."’ JOHNSON. ‘"I then had a ſevere illneſs, and left it off, and I have never begun it again. I never felt any difference upon myſelf from eating one thing rather than another, nor from one kind of weather rather than another. There are people, I believe, who feel a dif⯑ference; but I am not one of them. And as to regular meals, I have faſted from the Sunday's dinner to the Tueſday's dinner, without any inconvenience. I believe it is beſt to eat juſt as one is hungry; but a man who is in buſineſs, or a man who has a family, muſt have ſtated meals. I am a ſtraggler. I may leave this town and go to Grand Cairo, without being miſſed here or obſerved there."’ EDWARDS. ‘"Don't you eat ſupper, Sir?"’ JOHNSON. ‘"No, Sir."’ EDWARDS. ‘"For my part now, I conſider ſupper as a turnpike through which one muſt paſs, in order to get to bed ³."’

JOHNSON. ‘"You are a lawyer, Mr. Edwards. Lawyers know life practi⯑cally. A bookiſh man ſhould always have them to converſe with. They have what he wants."’ EDWARDS. ‘"I am grown old: I am ſixty-five."’ JOHNSON. ‘"I ſhall be ſixty-eight next birth-day. Come, Sir, drink water, and put in for a hundred."’

Mr. Edwards mentioned a gentleman who had left his whole fortune to Pembroke College. JOHNSON. ‘"Whether to leave one's whole fortune to a College be right, muſt depend upon circumſtances. I would leave the intereſt of the fortune I bequeathed to a College to my relations or my friends, for their lives. It is the ſame thing to a College, which is a perma⯑nent ſociety, whether it gets the money now or twenty years hence; and I would wiſh to make my relations or friends feel the benefit of it."’

[237] This interview confirmed my opinion of Johnſon's moſt humane and bene⯑volent heart. His cordial and placid behaviour to an old fellow-collegian, a man ſo different from himſelf; and his telling him that he would go down to his farm and viſit him, ſhewed a kindlineſs of diſpoſition very rare at an advanced age. He obſerved, ‘"how wonderful it was that they had both been in London almoſt forty years, without having ever once met, and both walkers in the ſtreet too!"’ Mr. Edwards, when going away, again recurred to his conſciouſneſs of ſenility, and looking full in Johnſon's face, ſaid to him, ‘"You'll find in Dr. Young, 'O my coevals! remnants of yourſelves."’ Johnſon did not reliſh this at all; but ſhook his head with impatience. Edwards walked off, ſeemingly highly pleaſed with the honour of having been thus noticed by Dr. Johnſon. When he was gone, I ſaid to Johnſon, that I thought him but a weak man. JOHNSON. ‘"Why, yes, Sir. Here is a man who has paſſed through life without experience: yet I would rather have him with me than a more ſenſible man who will not talk readily. This man is always willing to ſay what he has to ſay."’ Yet Dr. Johnſon had himſelf by no means that willingneſs which he praiſed ſo much, and I think ſo juſtly; for who has not felt the painful effect of the dreary void, when there is a total ſilence in a company for any length of time; or, which is as bad, or perhaps worſe, when the converſation is with difficulty kept up by a perpetual effort?

Johnſon once obſerved to me, ‘"Tom Tyers deſcribed me the beſt: 'Sir, (ſaid he,) you are like a ghoſt: you never ſpeak till you are ſpoken to."’

The gentleman whom he thus familiarly mentioned was Mr. Thomas Tyers, ſon of Mr. Jonathan Tyers, the founder of that excellent place of publick amuſement, Vauxhall Gardens, which muſt ever be an eſtate to its proprietor, as it is peculiarly adapted to the taſte of the Engliſh nation; there being a mixture of curious ſhew—gay exhibition—muſick, vocal and inſtrumental, not too refined for the general ear—for all which only a ſhilling is paid—and, though laſt not leaſt, good eating and drinking for thoſe who chooſe to purchaſe that regale. Mr. Thomas Tyers was bred to the law; but having a handſome fortune, vivacity of temper, and eccentricity of mind, he could not confine himſelf to the regularity of practice. He therefore ran about the world with a pleaſant careleſſneſs, amuſing every body by his deſultory converſation. He abounded in anecdote, but was not ſufficiently attentive to accuracy. I therefore cannot [238] venture to avail myſelf much of a biographical ſketch of Johnſon which he publiſhed, being one among the various perſons ambitious of appending their names to that of my illuſtrious friend. That ſketch is, however, an enter⯑taining little collection of fragments. Thoſe which he publiſhed of Pope and Addiſon are of higher merit; but his fame muſt chiefly reſt upon his ‘"Political Conferences,"’ in which he introduces ſeveral eminent perſons delivering their ſentiments in the way of dialogue, and diſcovers a conſiderable ſhare of learn⯑ing, various knowledge, and diſcernment of character. This much may I be allowed to ſay of a man who was exceedingly obliging to me, and who lived with Dr. Johnſon in as eaſy a manner as almoſt any of his very numerous acquaintance.

Mr. Edwards had ſaid to me aſide, that Dr. Johnſon ſhould have been of a profeſſion. I repeated the remark to Johnſon that I might have his own thoughts on the ſubject. JOHNSON. ‘"Sir, it would have been better that I had been of a profeſſion. I ought to have been a lawyer."’ BOSWELL. ‘"I do not think, Sir, it would have been better, for we ſhould not have had the Engliſh Dictionary."’ JOHNSON. ‘"But you would have had Reports."’ BOSWELL. ‘"Aye; but there would not have been another who could have written the Dictionary. There have been many very good Judges. Suppoſe you had been Lord Chancellor; you would have delivered opinions with more extent of mind, and in a more ornamented manner, than perhaps any Chan⯑cellor ever did, or ever will do. But, I believe, cauſes have been as judiciouſly decided as you could have done."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Yes, Sir. Property has been as well ſettled."’

Johnſon, however, had a noble ambition floating in his mind, and had, un⯑doubtedly, often ſpeculated on the poſſibility of his ſupereminent powers being rewarded in this great and liberal country by the higheſt honours of the ſtate. Sir William Scott informs me, that upon the death of the late Lord Lichfield, who was Chancellor of the Univerſity of Oxford, he ſaid to Johnſon, ‘"What a pity it is, Sir, that you did not follow the profeſſion of the law. You might have been Lord Chancellor of Great-Britain, and attained to the dignity of the peerage; and now that the title of Lichfield, your native city, is extinct, you might have had it."’ Johnſon, upon this, ſeemed much agitated; and, in an angry tone, exclaimed, ‘"Why will you vex me by ſuggeſting this, when it is too late?"’

But he did not repine at the proſperity of others. The late Dr. Thomas Leland told Mr. Courtenay, that when Mr. Edmund Burke ſhewed Johnſon his fine houſe and lands near Beaconsfield, Johnſon coolly ſaid, ‘"Non equidem invideo; miror magis."’

[239] Yet no man had a higher notion of the dignity of literature than Johnſon, or was more determined in maintaining the reſpect which he juſtly conſidered as due to it. Of this, beſides the general tenor of his conduct in ſociety, ſome characteriſtical inſtances may be mentioned.

He told Sir Joſhua Reynolds, that once when he dined in a numerous company of bookſellers, where the room being ſmall, the head of the table, at which he ſat, was almoſt cloſe to the fire, he perſevered in ſuffering a great deal of inconvenience from the heat, rather than quit his place, and let one of them ſit above him.

Goldſmith, in his diverting ſimplicity, complained one day, in a mixed company, of Lord Camden. ‘"I met him (ſaid he) at Lord Clare's houſe in the country, and he took no more notice of me than if I had been an ordinary man."’ The company having laughed heartily, Johnſon ſtood forth in defence of his friend. ‘"Nay, gentlemen, (ſaid he,) Dr. Goldſmith is in the right. A nobleman ought to have made up to ſuch a man as Goldſmith; and I think it is much againſt Lord Camden that he neglected him."’

Nor could he patiently endure to hear that ſuch reſpect as he thought due only to higher intellectual qualities, ſhould be beſtowed on men of ſlighter, though perhaps more amuſing talents. I told him, that one morning, when I went to breakfaſt with Garrick, who was very vain of his intimacy with Lord Camden, he accoſted me thus:—‘"Pray now, did you?—did you meet a little lawyer turning the corner, eh?"’—‘"No, Sir (ſaid I). Pray what do you mean by the queſtion?"’—‘"Why, (replied Garrick, with an affected indifference, yet as if ſtanding on tip-toe,) Lord Camden has this moment left me. We have had a long walk together."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Well, Sir, Garrick talked very properly. Lord Camden was a little lawyer to be aſſociating ſo familiarly with a player."’

Sir Joſhua Reynolds has obſerved, with great truth, that Johnſon conſidered Garrick to be as it were his property. He would allow no man either to blame or to praiſe Garrick in his preſence, without contradicting him.

Having fallen into a very ſerious frame, in which mutual expreſſions of kindneſs paſſed between us, ſuch as would be thought too vain in me to repeat, I talked with regret of the ſad inevitable certainty that one of us muſt ſurvive the other. JOHNSON. ‘"Yes, Sir, that is an affecting conſider⯑ation. I remember Swift, in one of his letters to Pope, ſays, 'I intend to come over, that we may meet once more; and when we muſt part, it is what happens to all human beings."’ BOSWELL. ‘"The hope that we ſhall ſee our departed friends again muſt ſupport the mind."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Why yes, Sir."’ BOSWELL. ‘"There is a ſtrange unwillingneſs to part with life, inde⯑pendent [240] of ſerious fears as to futurity. A reverend friend of ours (naming him) tells me, that he feels an uneaſineſs at the thoughts of leaving his houſe, his ſtudy, his books."’ JOHNSON. ‘"This is fooliſh in *****. A man need not be uneaſy on theſe grounds; for, as he will retain his conſciouſneſs, he may ſay with the philoſopher, Omnia mea mecum porto."’ BOSWELL. ‘"True, Sir: we may carry our books in our head; but ſtill there is ſomething painful in the thought of leaving for ever what has given us pleaſure. I remember many years ago, when my imagination was warm, and I happened to be in a melancholy mood, it diſtreſſed me to think of going into a ſtate of being in which Shakſpeare's poetry did not exiſt. A lady whom I then much admired, a very amiable woman, humoured my fancy, and relieved me by ſaying, 'The firſt thing you will meet in the other world, will be an elegant copy of Shakſpeare's works preſented to you."’ Dr. Johnſon ſmiled benignantly at this, and did not appear to diſapprove of the notion.

We went to St. Clement's church again in the afternoon, and then returned and drank tea and coffee in Mrs. Williams's room; Mrs. Deſmoulins doing the honours of the tea-table. I obſerved that he would not even look at a proof-ſheet of his ‘"Life of Waller"’ on Good-Friday.

Mr. Allen, the printer, brought a book on agriculture, which was printed, and was ſoon to be publiſhed. It was a very ſtrange performance, the authour having mixed in it his own thoughts upon various topicks, along with his remarks on ploughing, ſowing, and other farming operations. He ſeemed to be an abſurd profane fellow, and had introduced in his book many ſneers at religion, with equal ignorance and conceit. Dr. Johnſon permitted me to read ſome paſſages aloud. One was, that he reſolved to work on Sunday, and did work, but he owned he felt ſome weak compunction; and he had this very curious reflection:—‘"I was born in the wilds of Chriſti⯑anity, and the briars and thorns ſtill hang about me."’ Dr. Johnſon could not help laughing at this ridiculous image, yet was very angry at the fellow's impiety. ‘"However, (ſaid he,) the Reviewers will make him hang himſelf."’ He however obſerved, ‘"that formerly there might have been a diſpenſation obtained for working on Sunday in the time of harveſt."’ Indeed in ritual obſervances, were all the miniſters of religion what they ſhould be, and what many of them are, ſuch a power might be wiſely and ſafely lodged with the Church.

On Saturday, April 14, I drank tea with him. He praiſed the late Mr. Duncombe, of Canterbury, as a pleaſing man. ‘"He uſed to come to me: I did not ſeek much after him. Indeed I never ſought much after any body."’ BOSWELL. ‘"Lord Orrery, I ſuppoſe."’ JOHNSON. ‘"No, Sir, I never went [241] to him but when he ſent for me."’ BOSWELL. ‘"Richardſon?"’ JOHNSON. ‘"Yes, Sir. But I ſought after George Pſalmanazar the moſt. I uſed to go and ſit with him at an alehouſe in the city."’

I am happy to mention another inſtance which I diſcovered of his ſeeking after a man of merit. Soon after the Honourable Daines Barrington had publiſhed his excellent ‘"Obſervations on the Statutes,"’ Johnſon waited on that worthy and learned gentleman; and, having told him his name, cour⯑teouſly ſaid, ‘"I have read your book, Sir, with great pleaſure, and wiſh to be better known to you."’ Thus began an acquaintance, which was continued with mutual regard as long as Johnſon lived.

Talking of a recent ſeditious delinquent, he ſaid, ‘"They ſhould ſet him in the pillory, that he may be puniſhed in a way that would diſgrace him."’ I obſerved, that the pillory does not always diſgrace. And I mentioned an inſtance of a gentleman who I thought was not diſhonoured by it. JOHNSON. ‘"Aye, but he was, Sir. He could not mouth and ſtrut as he uſed to do, after having been there. People are not very willing to aſk a man to their tables who has ſtood in the pillory."’

The gentleman who had dined with us at Dr. Percy's³ came in. Johnſon attacked the Americans with intemperate vehemence of abuſe. I ſaid ſome⯑thing in their favour; and added, that I was always ſorry when he talked on that ſubject. This, it ſeems, exaſperated him; though he ſaid nothing at the time. The cloud was charged with ſulphureous vapour, which was after⯑wards to burſt in thunder.—We talked of a gentleman who was running out his fortune in London; and I ſaid ‘"We muſt get him out of it. All his friends muſt quarrel with him, and that will ſoon drive him away."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Nay, Sir, we'll ſend you to him. If your company does not drive a man out of his houſe, nothing will."’ This was a horrible ſhock, for which there was no viſible cauſe. I afterwards aſked him why he had ſaid ſo harſh a thing. JOHNSON. ‘"Becauſe, Sir, you had made me angry about the Americans."’ BOSWELL. ‘"But why did not you take your revenge directly?"’ JOHNSON. (ſmiling) ‘"Becauſe, Sir, I had nothing ready. A man cannot ſtrike till he has his weapons."’ This was a candid and pleaſant confeſſion.

He ſhewed me to-night his drawing-room, very genteelly fitted up; and ſaid, ‘"Mrs. Thrale ſneered when I talked of my having aſked you and your lady to live at my houſe. I was obliged to tell her, that you would be in as reſpectable a ſituation in my houſe as in hers. Sir, the inſolence of wealth [242] will creep out."’ BOSWELL. ‘"She has a little both of the inſolence of wealth, and the conceit of parts."’ JOHNSON. ‘"The inſolence of wealth is a wretched thing; but the conceit of parts has ſome foundation. To be ſure it ſhould not be. But who is without it?"’ BOSWELL. ‘"Yourſelf, Sir."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Why I play no tricks: I lay no traps."’ BOSWELL. ‘"No, Sir. You are ſix feet high, and you only do not ſtoop."’

We talked of the numbers of people that ſometimes have compoſed the houſehold of great families. I mentioned that there were a hundred in the family of the preſent Earl of Eglintoune's father. Dr. Johnſon ſeeming to doubt it, I began to enumerate. ‘"Let us ſee: my Lord and my lady two."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Nay, Sir, if you are to count by twos, you may be long enough."’ BOSWELL. ‘"Well, but now I add two ſons and ſeven daughters, and a ſervant for each, that will make twenty; ſo we have the fifth part already."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Very true. You get at twenty pretty readily; but you will not ſo eaſily get further on. We grow to five feet pretty readily; but it is not ſo eaſy to grow to ſeven."’

On Sunday, April 19, being Eaſter-day, after the ſolemnities of the feſtival in St. Paul's church, I viſited him, but could not ſtay to dinner. I expreſſed a wiſh to have the arguments for Chriſtianity always in readineſs, that my religious faith might be as firm and clear as any propoſition whatever, ſo that I need not be under the leaſt uneaſineſs when it ſhould be attacked. JOHNSON ‘"Sir you cannot anſwer all objections. You have demonſtration for a Firſt Cauſe: you ſee he muſt be good as well as powerful, becauſe there is nothing to make him otherwiſe, and goodneſs of itſelf is preferable. Yet you have againſt this, what is very certain, the unhappineſs of human life. This, however, gives us reaſon to hope for a future ſtate of compenſation, that there may be a perfect ſyſtem. But of that we were not ſure till we had a poſitive revelation."’ I told him, that his ‘"Raſſelas"’ had often made me unhappy; for it repreſented the miſery of human life ſo well, and ſo con⯑vincingly to a thinking mind, that if at any time the impreſſion wore off, and I felt myſelf eaſy, I began to ſuſpect ſome deluſion.

On Monday, April 20, I found him at home in the morning. We talked of a gentleman who we apprehended was gradually involving his circum⯑ſtances by bad management. JOHNSON. ‘"Waſting a fortune is evaporation by a thouſand imperceptible means. If it were a ſtream, they'd ſtop it. You muſt ſpeak to him. It is really miſerable. Were he a gameſter, it could be ſaid he had hopes of winning. Were he a bankrupt in trade, he might have grown rich; but he has neither ſpirit to ſpend, nor reſolution to [243] ſpare. He does not ſpend faſt enough to have pleaſure from it. He has the crime of prodigality, and the wretchedneſs of parſimony. If a man is killed in a duel, he is killed as many a one has been killed; but it is a ſad thing for a man to lie down and die; to bleed to death, becauſe he has not fortitude enough to ſear the wound, or even to ſtitch it up."’ I cannot but pauſe a moment to admire the fecundity of fancy, and choice of language, which in this inſtance, and, indeed, on almoſt all occaſions, he diſplayed. It was well obſerved by Dr. Percy, now Biſhop of Dromore, ‘"The converſa⯑tion of Johnſon is ſtrong and clear, and may be compared to an antique ſtatue, where every vein and muſcle is diſtinct and bold. Ordinary converſa⯑tion reſembles an inferiour caſt."’

On Saturday, April 25, I dined with him at Sir Joſhua Reynolds's, with the learned Dr. Muſgrave, Counſellor Leland of Ireland, ſon to the hiſtorian, Mrs. Cholmondeley, and ſome more ladies. ‘"The Project,"’ a new poem, was read to the company by Dr. Muſgrave. JOHNSON. ‘"Sir, it has no power. Were it not for the well-known names with which it is filled, it would be nothing: the names carry the poet, not the poet the names."’ MUSGRAVE. ‘"A temporary poem always entertains us."’ JOHNSON. ‘"So does an account of the criminals hanged yeſterday entertain us."’

He proceeded:—‘"Demoſthenes Taylor, as he was called, (that is, the tranſlator of Demoſthenes,) was the moſt ſilent man, the mereſt ſtatue of a man that I have ever ſeen. I once dined in company with him, and all he ſaid during the whole time was no more than Richard. How a man ſhould ſay only Richard, it is not eaſy to imagine. But it was thus: Dr. Douglas was talking of Dr. Zachary Grey, and aſcribing to him ſomething that was written by Dr. Richard Grey. So to correct him, Taylor ſaid, (imitating his affected ſententious emphaſis and nod,) 'Richard."’

Mrs. Cholmondeley, in a high flow of ſpirits, exhibited ſome lively ſallies of hyperbolical compliment to Johnſon, with whom ſhe had been long acquainted, and was very eaſy. He was quick in catching the manner of the moment, and anſwered her ſomewhat in the ſtyle of the hero of a romance, ‘"Madam, you crown me with unſading laurels."’

I happened, I know not how, to ſay that a pamphlet meant a proſe piece. JOHNSON. ‘"No, Sir. A few ſheets of poetry unbound are a pamphlet, as much as a few ſheets of proſe."’ MUSGRAVE. ‘"A pamphlet may be under⯑ſtood to mean a poetical piece, in Weſtminſter-Hall, that is in formal language; but in common language it is underſtood to mean proſe."’ JOHNSON. (and here was one of the many inſtances of his knowing clearly [244] and telling exactly how a thing is) ‘"A pamphlet is underſtood in common language to mean proſe, only from this, that there is ſo much more proſe written than poetry; as when we ſay a book, proſe is underſtood for the ſame reaſon, though a book may as well be in poetry as in proſe. We under⯑ſtand what is moſt general, and we name what is leſs frequent."’

We talked of a certain lady's verſes on Ireland. MISS REYNOLDS. ‘"Have you ſeen them, Sir?"’ JOHNSON. ‘"No, Madam. I have ſeen a tranſlation from Horace, by one of her daughters. She ſhewed it me."’ MISS REYNOLDS. ‘"And how was it, Sir?"’ JOHNSON. ‘"Why very well for a young Miſs's [...]ſes;—that is to ſay, compared with excellence, nothing; but, very well, for the perſon who wrote them. I am vexed at being ſhewn verſes in that manner."’ MISS REYNOLDS. ‘"But if they ſhould be good, why not give them hearty praiſe?"’ JOHNSON. ‘"Why, Madam, becauſe I have not then got the better of my bad humour from having been ſhewn them. You muſt conſider, Madam; before-hand they may be bad as well as good. Nobody has a right to put another under ſuch a difficulty, that he muſt either hurt the perſon by telling the truth, or hurt himſelf by telling what is is not true."’ BOSWELL. ‘"A man often ſhews his writings to people of eminence, to obtain from them, either from their good-nature, or from their not being able to tell the truth firmly, a commendation, of which he may afterwards avail himſelf."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Very true, Sir. Therefore a man, who is aſked by an authour what he thinks of his work, is put to the torture, and is not obliged to ſpeak the truth; ſo that what he ſays is not be conſidered as his opinion; yet he has ſaid it, and cannot retract it; and this authour, when mankind are hunting him with a canniſter at his tail, can ſay, 'I would not have publiſhed, had not Johnſon, or Reynolds, or Muſgrave, or ſome other good judge commended the work.' Yet I conſider it as a very difficult queſtion in conſcience, whether one ſhould adviſe a man not to publiſh a work, if profit be his object; for the man may ſay, 'Had it not been for you, I ſhould have had the money.' Now you cannot be ſure; for you have only your own opinion, and the publick may think very differently."’ SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. ‘"You muſt upon ſuch an occaſion have two judgements; one as to the real value of the work, the other as to what may pleaſe the general taſte at the time."’ JOHNSON. ‘"But you can be ſure of neither; and therefore I ſhould ſcruple much to give a ſuppreſſive vote. Both Goldſmith's comedies were once refuſed; his firſt by Garrick, his ſecond by Colman, who was prevailed on at laſt by much ſolicitation, nay, a kind of force, to bring it on. His [245] 'Vicar of Wakefield' I myſelf did not think would have had much ſucceſs. It was written and ſold to a bookſeller before his 'Traveller,' but publiſhed after; ſo little expectation had the bookſeller from it. Had it been ſold after 'The Traveller,' he might have had twice as much money for it, though ſixty guineas was no mean price. The bookſeller had the advantage of Goldſmith's reputation from 'The Traveller' in the ſale, though he had it not in ſelling the copy."’ SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. ‘"The Beggars Opera affords a proof how ſtrangely people will differ in opinion about a literary performance. Burke thinks it has no merit."’ JOHNSON. ‘"It was refuſed by one of the houſes; but I ſhould have thought it would ſucceed, not from any great excellence in the writing, but from the novelty, and the general ſpirit and gaiety of the piece, which keeps the audience always attentive, and diſmiſſes them in good humour."’

We went to the drawing-room, where was a conſiderable increaſe of com⯑pany. Several of us got round Dr. Johnſon, and complained that he would not give us an exact catalogue of his works, that there might be a complete edition. He ſmiled, and evaded our intreaties. That he intended to do it I have no doubt, becauſe I have heard him ſay ſo; and I have in my poſſeſ⯑ſion an imperfect liſt, fairly written out, which he entitles Hiſtoria Studiorum. I once got from one of his friends a liſt, which there was pretty good reaſon to ſuppoſe was accurate, for it was written down in his preſence by this friend, who enumerated each article aloud, and had ſome of them mentioned to him by Mr. Levett, in concert with whom it was made out; and Johnſon, who heard all this, did not contradict it. But when I ſhewed a copy of this liſt to him, and mentioned the evidence for its exactneſs, he laughed, and ſaid, ‘"I was willing to let them go on as they pleaſed, and never interfered."’ Upon which I read it to him, article by article, and got him poſitively to own or refuſe; and then having obtained certainty ſo far, I got ſome other articles confirmed by him directly, and afterwards, from time to time, made additions under his ſanction.

His friend Edward Cave having been mentioned, he told us, ‘"Cave uſed to ſell ten thouſand of 'The Gentleman's Magazine;' yet ſuch was then his minute attention and anxiety that the ſale ſhould not feel the ſmalleſt diminu⯑tion, that he would name a particular perſon who he heard had talked of leaving off the magazine, and would ſay, 'Let us have ſomething good next month."’

It was obſerved, that avarice was inherent in ſome diſpoſitions. JOHNSON. ‘"No man was born a miſer, becauſe no man was born to poſſeſſion. Every [246] man is born cupidus—deſirous of getting; but not avarus—deſirous of keep⯑ing."’ BOSWELL. ‘"I have heard old Mr. Sheridan maintain, with much ingenuity, that a complete miſer is a happy man; a miſer who gives himſelf wholly to the one paſſion of ſaving."’ JOHNSON. ‘"That is flying in the face of all the world, who have called an avaricious man a miſer, becauſe he is miſerable. No, Sir; a man who both ſpends and ſaves money is the hap⯑pieſt man, becauſe he has both enjoyments."’

The converſation having turned on Bon Mots, he quoted from one of the Ana an exquiſite inſtance of flattery in a maid of honour in France, who being aſked by the Queen what o'clock it was, anſwered, ‘"What your Majeſty pleaſes."’ He admitted that Mr. Burke's claſſical pun upon Mr. Wilkes's being carried on the ſhoulders of the mob,

was admirable; and though he was ſtrangely unwilling to allow to that extraordinary man the talent of wit ⁴, he alſo laughed with approbation at another of his playful conceits; which was, that ‘"Horace has in one line given a deſcription of a good deſirable manour: 'Eſt modus in rebus, ſunt certi denique fines.' that is to ſay, a modus as to the tithes and certain fines."’

He obſerved, ‘"A man cannot with propriety ſpeak of himſelf, except he relates ſimple facts; as, 'I was at Richmond:' or what depends on menſu⯑ration; as, 'I am ſix feet high." He is ſure he has been at Richmond; he is ſure he is ſix feet high: but he cannot be ſure he is wiſe, or that he has any other excellence. Then, all cenſure of a man's ſelf is oblique praiſe. It is in order to ſhew how much he can ſpare. It has all the invidiouſneſs of ſelf-praiſe, and all the reproach of falſehood."’ BOSWELL. ‘"Sometimes it may proceed from a man's ſtrong conſciouſneſs of his faults being obſerved. He knows that others would throw him down, and therefore he had better lye down ſoftly of his own accord."’

[247] On Tueſday, April 28, he was engaged to dine at General Paoli's, where, as I have already obſerved, I was ſtill entertained in elegant hoſpitality, and with all the eaſe and comfort of a home. I called on him, and accompanied him in a hackney-coach. We ſtopped firſt at the bottom of Hedge-lane, into which he went to leave a letter, ‘"with good news for a poor man in diſtreſs,"’ as he told me. I did not queſtion him particularly as to this. He himſelf often reſembled Lady Bolingbroke's lively deſcription of Pope: that ‘"he was un politique aux choux et aux raves."’ He would ſay, ‘"I dine to-day in Groſvenor-ſquare;"’ this might be with a Duke: or, perhaps, ‘"I dine to-day at the other end of the town:"’ or, ‘"A gentleman of great eminence called on me yeſterday."’—He loved thus to keep things floating in conjecture: Omne ignotum pro magnifico eſt. I believe I ventured to diſſipate the cloud, to unveil the myſtery, more freely and frequently than any of his friends. We ſtopped again at Wirgman's, the corner of St. James's-ſtreet, a toy-ſhop, to which he had been directed, but not clearly, for he ſearched about ſome time, and could not find it at firſt; and ſaid, ‘"To direct one only to a corner ſhop is toying with one."’ I ſuppoſe he meant this as a play upon the word toy: it was the firſt time that I knew him ſtoop to ſuch ſport. After he had been ſome time in the ſhop, he ſent for me to come out of the coach, and help him to chooſe a pair of ſilver buckles, as thoſe he had were too ſmall. Probably this alteration in dreſs had been ſuggeſted by Mrs. Thrale, by aſſociating with whom, his external appearance was much improved. He got better clothes; and the dark colour, from which he never deviated, was enlivened by metal buttons. His wigs, too, were much better; and during their travels in France, he was furniſhed with a Paris-made wig, of handſome conſtruction. This chooſing of ſilver buckles was a negociation: ‘"Sir, (ſaid he,) I will not have the ridiculous large ones now in faſhion; and I will give no more than a guinea for a pair."’ Such were the principles of the buſineſs; and, after ſome examination, he was fitted. As we drove along, I found him in a talking humour, of which I availed myſelf. BOSWELL. ‘"I was this morning in Ridley's ſhop, Sir; and was told, that the collection called 'Johnſoniana' has ſold very much."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Yet the 'Journey to the Hebrides' has not had a great ſale ⁵."’ BOSWELL. ‘"That is ſtrange."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Yes, Sir; for in that book I have told the world a great deal that they did not know before."’

[248] BOSWELL. ‘"I drank chocolate, Sir, this forenoon with Mr. Eld; and, to my no ſmall ſurprize, found him to be a Staffordſhire Whig, a being which I did not believe had exiſted."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Sir, there are raſcals in all coun⯑tries."’ BOSWELL. ‘"Eld ſaid, a Tory was a creature generated between a non-juring parſon and one's grand-mother."’ JOHNSON. ‘"And I have always ſaid, the firſt Whig was the Devil."’ BOSWELL. ‘"He certainly was, Sir. The Devil was impatient of ſubordination; he was the firſt who reſiſted power: 'Better to reign in Hell than ſerve in Heaven."’

At General Paoli's were Sir Joſhua Reynolds, Mr. Langton, Marcheſe Gherardi of Lombardy, and Mr. John Spottiſwoode, of Spottiſwoode ⁶, the ſolicitor. At this time fears of an invaſion were circulated; to obviate which, Mr. Spottiſwoode obſerved, that Mr. Fraſer the engineer, who had lately come from Dunkirk, ſaid, that the French had the ſame fears of us. JOHNSON. ‘"It is thus that mutual cowardice keeps us in peace. Were one half of mankind brave, and one half cowards, the brave would be always beating the cowards. Were all brave, they would lead a very uneaſy life; all would be continually fighting: but being all cowards, we go on very well."’

We talked of drinking wine. JOHNSON. ‘"I require wine only when I am alone. I have then often wiſhed for it, and often taken it."’ SPOTTISWOODE. ‘"What, by way of a companion, Sir?"’ JOHNSON. ‘"To get rid of myſelf, to ſend myſelf away. Wine gives great pleaſure; and every pleaſure is of itſelf a good. It is a good, unleſs counterbalanced by evil. A man may have a ſtrong reaſon not to drink wine; and that may be greater than the pleaſure. Wine makes a man better pleaſed with himſelf. I do not ſay that it makes him more pleaſing to others. Sometimes it does. But the danger is, that while a man grows better pleaſed with himſelf, he may be growing leſs pleaſing to others. Wine gives a man nothing. It neither gives him knowledge nor wit; it only animates a man, and enables him to bring out ⁸⁴ [249] what a dread of the company has repreſſed. It only puts in motion what has been locked up in froſt. But this may be good, or it may be bad."’ SPOTTISWOODE. ‘"So, Sir, wine is a key which opens a box: but this box may be either full or empty."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Nay, Sir, converſation is the key: wine is a pick-lock which forces open the box and injures it. A man ſhould cultivate his mind ſo as to have that confidence and readineſs without wine, which wine gives."’ BOSWELL. ‘"The great difficulty of reſiſting wine is from benevolence. For inſtance, a good worthy man aſks you to taſte his wine which he has had twenty years in his cellar."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Sir, all this notion about benevolence ariſes from a man's imagining himſelf to be of more importance to others, than he really is. They don't care a farthing whether he drinks wine or not."’ SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. ‘"Yes, they do for the time."’ JOHNSON. ‘"For the time!—If they care this minute, they forget it the next. And as for the good worthy man; how do we know he is good and worthy? No good and worthy man will inſiſt upon another man's drink⯑ing wine. As to the wine twenty years in the cellar—of ten men, three ſay this, merely becauſe they muſt ſay ſomething;—three are telling a lie, when they ſay they have had the wine twenty years;—three would rather ſave the wine;—one, perhaps, cares. I allow it is ſomething to pleaſe one's com⯑pany; and people are always pleaſed with thoſe who partake pleaſure with them. But after a man has brought himſelf to relinquiſh the great perſonal pleaſure which ariſes from drinking wine, any other conſideration is a trifle. To pleaſe others by drinking wine, is ſomething, only if there be nothing againſt it. I ſhould, however, be-ſorry to offend worthy men: 'Curſt be the verſe, how well ſoe'er it flow, 'That tends to make one worthy man my foe."’ BOSWELL. ‘"Curſt be the ſpring, the water."’ JOHNSON. ‘"But let us conſider what a ſad thing it would be, if we were obliged to drink or do any thing elſe that may happen to be agreeable to the company where we are."’ LANGTON. ‘"By the ſame rule you muſt join with a gang of cut-purſes."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Yes, Sir: but yet we muſt do juſtice to wine; we muſt allow it the power it poſſeſſes. To make a man pleaſed with himſelf, let me tell you, is doing a very great thing; 'Si patriae volumus, ſi Nobis vivere cari."’

[250] I was at this time myſelf a water-drinker upon trial by Johnſon's recom⯑mendation. JOHNSON. ‘"Boſwell is a bolder combatant than Sir Joſhua: he argues for wine without the help of wine; but Sir Joſhua with it."’ SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. ‘"But to pleaſe one's company is a ſtrong motive."’ JOHNSON. (who, from drinking only water, ſuppoſed every body who drank wine to be elevated,) ‘"I won't argue any more with you, Sir. You are too far gone."’ SIR JOSHUA. ‘"I ſhould have thought ſo indeed, Sir, had I made ſuch a ſpeech as you have now done."’ JOHNSON. (drawing himſelf in, and, I really thought, bluſhing,) ‘"Nay, don't be angry. I did not mean to offend you."’ SIR JOSHUA. ‘"At firſt the taſte of wine was diſagree⯑able to me; but I brought myſelf to drink it, that I might be like other people. The pleaſure of drinking wine is ſo connected with pleaſing your company, that altogether there is ſomething of ſocial goodneſs in it."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Sir, this is only ſaying the ſame thing over again."’ SIR JOSHUA. ‘"No, this is new."’ JOHNSON. ‘"You put it in new words, but it is an old thought. This is one of the diſadvantages of wine. It makes a man miſtake words for thoughts."’ BOSWELL. ‘"I think it is a new thought; at leaſt, it is in a new attitude."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Nay, Sir, it is only in a new coat; or an old coat with a new facing. (Then laughing heartily) It is the old dog in a new doublet.—An extraordinary inſtance however may occur where a man's patron will do nothing for him, unleſs he will drink: there may be a good reaſon for drinking."’

I mentioned a nobleman who I believed was really uneaſy if his company would not drink hard. JOHNSON. ‘"That is from having had people about him whom he has been accuſtomed to command."’ BOSWELL. ‘"Suppoſing I ſhould be tête à tête with him at table."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Sir, there is no more reaſon for your drinking with him, than his being ſober with you."’ BOSWELL. ‘"Why that is true; for it would do him leſs hurt to be ſober, than it would do me to get drunk."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Yes, Sir; and from what I have heard of him, one would not wiſh to ſacrifice himſelf to ſuch a man. If he muſt always have ſomebody to drink with him, he ſhould buy a ſlave, and then he would be ſure to have it. They who ſubmit to drink as another pleaſes, make themſelves his ſlaves."’ BOSWELL. ‘"But, Sir, you will ſurely make allowance for the duty of hoſpitality. A gentleman who loves drinking comes to viſit me."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Sir, a man knows whom he viſits; he comes to the table of a ſober man."’ BOSWELL. ‘"But, Sir, you and I ſhould not have been ſo well received in the Highlands and Hebrides, if I had not drank with our worthy friends. Had I drunk water only as you did, they would not [251] have been ſo cordial."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Sir William Temple mentions that in his travels through the Netherlands he had two or three gentlemen with him, and when a bumper was neceſſary he put it on them. Were I to travel again through the Highlands, I would have Sir Joſhua with me to take the bumpers."’ BOSWELL. ‘"But, Sir, let me put a caſe. Suppoſe Sir Joſhua ſhould take a jaunt into Scotland; he does me the honour to pay me a viſit at my houſe in the country; I am overjoyed at ſeeing him; we are quite by ourſelves; ſhall I unſociably and churliſhly let him ſit drinking by himſelf? No, no, my dear Sir Joſhua, you ſhall not be treated ſo, I will take a bottle with you."’

The celebrated Mrs. Rudd being mentioned, JOHNSON. ‘"Fifteen years ago I ſhould have gone to ſee her."’ SPOTTISWOODE. ‘"Becauſe ſhe was fifteen years younger?"’ JOHNSON. ‘"No, Sir; but now they have a trick of putting every thing into the news-papers."’

He begged of General Paoli to repeat one of the introductory ſtanzas of the firſt book of Taſſo's ‘"Jeruſalem,"’ which he did, and then Johnſon found fault with the ſimile of ſweetening the edges of a cup for a child, being transferred from Lucretius into an epick poem. The General ſaid he did not imagine Homer's poetry was ſo ancient as is ſuppoſed, becauſe he aſcribes to a Greek colony circumſtances of refinement not found in Greece itſelf at a later period, when Thucydides wrote. JOHNSON. ‘"I recollect but one paſſage quoted by Thucydides from Homer, which is not to be found in our copies of Homer's works; I am for the antiquity of Homer, and think that a Grecian colony by being nearer Perſia might be more refined than the mother country."’

On Wedneſday, April 29, I dined with him at Mr. Allan Ramſay's, where were Lord Binning, Dr. Robertſon the hiſtorian, Sir Joſhua Reynolds, and the Honourable Mrs. Boſcawen, widow of the Admiral, and mother of the preſent Viſcount Falmouth, of whom, if it be not preſumptuous in me to praiſe her, I would ſay, that her manners are the moſt agreeable, and her converſation the beſt of any lady with whom I ever had the happineſs to be acquainted. Before Johnſon came we talked a good deal of him; Ramſay ſaid he had always found him a very polite man, and that he treated him with great reſpect, which he did very ſincerely. I ſaid I wor⯑ſhipped him. ROBERTSON. ‘"But ſome of you ſpoil him; you ſhould not worſhip him; you ſhould worſhip no man."’ BOSWELL. ‘"I cannot help worſhipping him, he is ſo much ſuperiour to other men."’ ROBERTSON. ‘"In criticiſm, and in wit in converſation he is no doubt very excellent; but in other reſpects he is not above other men; he will believe any thing, and will [252] ſtrenuouſly defend the moſt minute circumſtance connected with the Church of England."’ BOSWELL. ‘"Believe me, Doctor, you are much miſtaken as to this; for when you talk with him calmly in private, he is very liberal in his way of thinking."’ ROBERTSON. ‘"He and I have been always very gracious; the firſt time I met him was one evening at Strahan's, when he had juſt had an unlucky altercation with Adam Smith, to whom he had been ſo rough, that Strahan, after Smith was gone, had remonſtrated with him, and told him that I was coming ſoon, and that he was uneaſy to think that he might behave in the ſame manner to me. 'No, no, Sir, (ſaid Johnſon,) I warrant you Robertſon and I ſhall do very well.' Accordingly he was gentle and good-humoured, and courteous with me the whole evening▪ and he has been ſo upon every occaſion that we have met ſince. I have often ſaid (laughing) that I have been in a great meaſure indebted to Smith for my good reception."’ BOSWELL. ‘"His power of reaſoning is very ſtrong, and he has a peculiar art of drawing characters, which is as rare as good portrait painting."’ SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. ‘"He is undoubtedly admirable in this; but, in order to mark the characters which he draws, he overcharges them, and gives people more than they really have, whether of good or bad."’

No ſooner did he, of whom we had been thus talking ſo eaſily, arrive, than we were all as quiet as a ſchool upon the entrance of the head-maſter; and were very ſoon ſet down to a table covered with ſuch variety of good things as contributed not a little to diſpoſe him to be pleaſed.

RAMSAY. ‘"I am old enough to have been a contemporary of Pope. His poetry was highly admired in his life-time, more a great deal than after his death."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Sir, it has not been leſs admired after his death; no authours ever had ſo much fame in their own life-time as Pope and Voltaire; and Pope's poetry has been as much admired after his death as during his life; it has only not been as much talked of, but that is owing to its being now more diſtant, and people having other writings to talk of. Virgil is leſs talked of than Pope, and Homer is leſs talked of than Virgil; but they are not leſs admired. We muſt read what the world reads at the moment. It has been maintained that this ſuperfcetation, this teeming of the preſs in modern times, is prejudicial to good literature, becauſe it obliges us to read ſo much of what is of inferiour value, in order to be in the faſhion; ſo that better works are neglected for want of time, becauſe a man will have more gratification of his vanity in converſation, from having read modern books, than from having read the beſt works of antiquity. But it muſt be conſidered, [253] that we have now more knowledge generally diffuſed; all our ladies read now, which is a great extenſion. Modern writers are the moons of literature, they ſhine with reflected light, with light borrowed from the ancients. Greece appears to me to be the fountain of knowledge; Rome of elegance."’ RAMSAY. ‘"I ſuppoſe Homer's 'Iliad' to be a collection of pieces which had been written before his time. I ſhould like to ſee a tranſlation of it in poetical proſe like the book of Ruth or Job."’ ROBERTSON. ‘"Would you, Dr. Johnſon, who are maſter of the Engliſh language, but try your hand upon a part of it."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Sir, you could not read it without the pleaſure of verſe ⁸."’

We talked of antiquarian reſearches. JOHNSON. ‘"All that is really known of the ancient ſtate of Britain is contained in a few pages. We can know no more than what the old writers have told us; yet what large books have we upon it, the whole of which excepting ſuch parts as are taken from thoſe old writers is all a dream, ſuch as Whitaker's 'Mancheſter.' I have heard Henry's 'Hiſtory of Britain' well ſpoken of, I am told it is carried on in ſeparate diviſions, as the civil, the military, the religious hiſtory; I wiſh much to have one branch well done, and that is the hiſtory of manners, of common life."’ ROBERTSON. ‘"Henry ſhould have applied his attention to that alone, which is enough for any man; and he might have found a great deal ſcattered in various books, had he read ſolely with that view. Henry erred in not ſelling his firſt volume at a moderate price to the bookſellers, that they might have puſhed him on till he had got reputation. I ſold my 'Hiſtory of Scotland' at a moderate price, as a work by which the bookſellers might either gain or not; and Cadell has told me that Millar and he have got ſix thouſand pounds by it. I afterwards received a much higher price for my writings. An authour ſhould ſell his firſt work for what the bookſellers will give, till it ſhall appear whether he is an authour of merit, or, which is the ſame thing as to [...]rchaſe-money, an authour who pleaſes the publick."’

Dr. Robertſon expatiated on the character of a certain nobleman; that he was one of the ſtrongeſt-minded men that ever lived; that he would ſit in company quite ſluggiſh, while there was nothing to call ſorth his intellectual vigour; but the moment that any important ſubject was ſtarted, for inſtance, how this country is to be defended againſt a French invaſion, he would rouſe [254] himſelf, and ſhew his extraordinary talents with the moſt powerful ability and animation." JOHNSON. ‘"Yet this man cut his own throat. The true ſtrong and ſound mind is the mind that can embrace equally great things and ſmall. Now I am told the King of Pruſſia will ſay to a ſervant, 'Bring me a bottle of ſuch a wine, which came in ſuch a year; it lies in ſuch a corner of the cellars.' I would have a man to be great in great things, and elegant in little things."’ He ſaid to me afterwards when we were by ourſelves, ‘"Robertſon was in a mighty romantick humour, he talked of one whom he did not know; but I downed him with the King of Pruſſia.’—‘"Yes, Sir, (ſaid I,) you threw a bottle at his head."’

An ingenious gentleman was mentioned, concerning whom both Robertſon and Ramſay agreed that he had a conſtant firmneſs of mind; for after a laborious day, and amidſt a multiplicity of cares and anxieties, he would ſit down with his ſiſters and be quite cheerful and good-humoured. Such a diſpoſition it was obſerved, was a happy gift of nature. JOHNSON. ‘"I do not think ſo; a man has from nature a certain portion of mind; the uſe he makes of it depends upon his own free will. That a man has always the ſame firmneſs of mind I do not ſay; becauſe every man feels his mind leſs firm at one time than at another; but I think a man's being in a good or bad humour depends upon his will."’ I, however, could not help thinking that a man's humour is often uncontroulable by his will.

Johnſon harangued againſt drinking wine, ‘"A man (ſaid he) may chooſe whether he will have abſtemiouſneſs and knowledge, or claret and ignorance."’ Dr. Robertſon (who is very companionable) was beginning to diſſent as to the proſcription of claret. JOHNSON. (with a placid ſmile) ‘"Nay, Sir, you ſhall not differ with me; as I have ſaid that the man is moſt perfect who takes in the moſt things, I am for knowledge and claret."’ ROBERTSON. (holding a glaſs of generous claret in his hand) ‘"Sir, I can only drink your health."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Sir, I ſhould be ſorry if you ſhould be ever in ſuch a ſtate as to be able to do nothing more."’ ROBERTSON. ‘"Dr. Johnſon, allow me to ſay, that in one reſpect I have the advantage of you; when you were in Scotland you would not come to hear any of our preachers, whereas when I am here I attend your publick worſhip without ſcruple, and indeed, with great ſatis⯑faction."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Why, Sir, that is not ſo extraordinary: the King of Siam ſent ambaſſadors to Louis the Fourteenth; but Louis the Fourteenth ſent none to the King of Siam ⁹."’

[255] Here my friend for once diſcovered a want of knowledge or forgetfulneſs; for Louis the Fourteenth did ſend an embaſſy to the King of Siam, and the Abbé Choiſis, who was employed in it, publiſhed an account of it in two volumes.

Next day, Thurſday, April 30, I found him at home by himſelf. JOHNSON. ‘"Well, Sir, Ramſay gave us a ſplendid dinner, I love Ramſay. You will not find a man in whoſe converſation there is more inſtruction, more informa⯑tion, and more elegance, than in Ramſay's."’ BOSWELL. ‘"What I admire in Ramſay, is his continuing to be ſo young."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Why yes, Sir, it is to be admired. I value myſelf upon this, that there is nothing of the old man in my converſation. I am now ſixty-eight, and I have no more of it than at twenty-eight."’ BOSWELL. ‘"But, Sir, would not you wiſh to know old age? He who is never an old man does not know the whole of human life; for old age is one of the diviſions of it."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Nay, Sir, what talk is this?’ BOSWELL. ‘"I mean, Sir, the Sphinx's deſcription of it—morning, noon, and night. I would know night, as well as morning and noon."’ JOHNSON. ‘"What, Sir, would you know what it is to feel the evils of old age? Would you have the gout? Would you have decrepi⯑tude?"’—Seeing him heated, I would not argue any farther; but I was con⯑fident that I was in the right. I would, in due time, be a Neſtor, an elder of the people; and there ſhould be ſome difference between the converſation of twenty-eight and ſixty-eight. A grave picture ſhould not be gay. There is a ſerene, ſolemn, placid old age. JOHNSON. ‘"Mrs. Thrale's mother ſaid of me what flattered me much. A clergyman was complaining of want of ſociety in the country where he lived; and ſaid, 'They talk of runts;' (that is, young cows). 'Sir, (ſaid Mrs. Saluſbury,) Mr. Johnſon would learn to talk of runts:' meaning that I was a man who would make the moſt of my ſituation, whatever it was."’ He added, ‘"I think myſelf a very polite man."’

On Saturday, May 2, I dined with him at Sir Joſhua Reynolds's, where there was a very large company, and a great deal of converſation; but owing to ſome circumſtance which I cannot now recollect, I have no record of any part of it, except that there were ſeveral people there by no means of the Johnſonian ſchool; ſo that leſs attention was paid to him than uſual, which put him out of humour; and upon ſome imaginary offence from me, he attacked me with ſuch rudeneſs, that I was vexed and angry, becauſe it gave thoſe perſons an opportunity of enlarging upon his ſuppoſed ferocity, and ill treatment of his beſt friends. I was ſo much hurt, and had my pride ſo much rouſed, that I kept away from him for a week; and, perhaps, [256] might have kept away much longer, nay, gone to Scotland without ſeeing him again, had not we fortunately met and been reconciled. To ſuch un⯑happy chances are human friendſhips liable.

On Friday, May 8, I dined with him at Mr. Langton's. I was reſerved and ſilent, which I ſuppoſe he perceived, and might recollect the cauſe. After dinner, when Mr. Langton was called out of the room, and we were by ourſelves, he drew his chair near to mine, and ſaid, in a tone of conciliating courteſy, ‘"Well, how have you done?"’ BOSWELL. ‘"Sir, you have made me very uneaſy by your behaviour to me when we were laſt at Sir Joſhua Reynolds's. You know, my dear Sir, no man has a greater reſpect and affection for you, or would ſooner go to the end of the world to ſerve you. Now to treat me ſo—."’ He inſiſted that I had interrupted him, which I aſſured him was not the caſe; and proceeded, ‘"But why treat me ſo before people who neither love you nor me?"’ JOHNSON. ‘"Well, I am ſorry for it. I'll make it up to you twenty different ways, as you pleaſe."’ BOSWELL. ‘"I ſaid to-day to Sir Joſhua, when he obſerved that you toſſed me ſometimes, I don't care how often, or how high he toſſes me, when only friends are preſent, for then I fall upon ſoft ground: but I do not like falling on ſtones, which is the caſe when enemies are preſent.—I think this a pretty good image, Sir."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Sir, it is one of the happieſt I have ever heard."’

The truth is, there was no venom in the wounds which he inflicted at any time, unleſs they were irritated by ſome malignant infuſion by other hands. We were inſtantly as cordial again as ever, and joined in hearty laugh at ſome ludicrous but innocent peculiarities of one of our friends. BOSWELL. ‘"Do you think, Sir, it is always culpable to laugh at a man to his face?"’ JOHNSON. ‘"Why, Sir, that depends upon the man and the thing. If it is a ſlight man, and a ſlight thing, you may; for you take nothing valuable from him."’

He ſaid, ‘"I read yeſterday Dr. Blair's ſermon on Devotion, from the text 'Cornelius, a devout man.' His doctrine is the beſt limited, the beſt expreſſed: there is the moſt warmth without fanaticiſm, the moſt rational tranſport. There is one part of it which I diſapprove, and I'd have him correct it; which is, that 'he who does not feel joy in religion is far from the kingdom of heaven.' There are many good men whoſe fear of GOD predominates over their love. It may diſcourage. It was raſhly ſaid. A noble ſermon it is indeed. I wiſh Blair would come over to the Church of England."’

When Mr. Langton returned to us, the ‘"flow of talk"’ went on. An eminent authour being mentioned;—JOHNSON. ‘"He is not a pleaſant man. His converſation is neither inſtructive nor brilliant. He does not talk as if [257] impelled by any fullneſs of knowledge or vivacity of imagination. His converſation is like that of any other ſenſible man. He talks with no wiſh either to inform or to hear, but only becauſe he thinks it does not become—to ſit in a company and ſay nothing."’

Mr. Langton having repeated the anecdote of Addiſon having diſtinguiſhed between his powers in converſation and in writing, by ſaying ‘"I have only nine-pence in my pocket; but I can draw for a thouſand pounds;"’—JOHNSON. ‘"He had not that retort ready, Sir; he had prepared it before-hand."’ LANGTON. (turning to me) ‘"A fine ſurmiſe. Set a thief to catch a thief."’

Johnſon called the Eaſt-Indians barbarians. BOSWELL. ‘"You will except the Chineſe, Sir?"’ JOHNSON. ‘"No, Sir."’ BOSWELL. ‘"Have they not arts?"’ JOHNSON. ‘"They have pottery."’ BOSWELL. ‘"What do you ſay to the written characters of their language?"’ JOHNSON. ‘"Sir, they have not an alphabet. They have not been able to form what all other nations have formed.’ BOSWELL. ‘"There is more learning in their language than in any other, from the immenſe number of their characters."’ JOHNSON. ‘"It is only more difficult from its rudeneſs; as there is more labour in hewing down a tree with a ſtone than with an axe."’

He ſaid, ‘"I have been reading Lord Kames's 'Sketches of the Hiſtory of Man.' In treating of ſeverity of puniſhment, he mentions that of Madame Lapouchin, in Ruſſia, but he does not give it fairly; for I have looked at Chappe D'Auteroche, from whom he has taken it. He ſtops where it is ſaid that the ſpectators thought her innocent, and leaves out what follows; that ſhe nevertheleſs was guilty. Now this is being as culpable as one can conceive, to miſrepreſent fact in a book, and for what motive? It is like one of thoſe lies which people tell, one cannot ſee why. The woman's life was ſpared; and no puniſhment is too great for the favourite of an Empreſs who had conſpired to dethrone her miſtreſs.’ BOSWELL. ‘"He was only giving a picture of the lady in her ſufferings."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Nay, don't endeavour to palliate this. Guilt is a principal feature in the picture. Kames is puzzled with a queſtion that puzzled me when I was a very young man. Why is it that the intereſt of money is lower, when money is plentiful; for five pounds has the ſame proportion of value to a hundred pounds when money is plentiful, as when it is ſcarce? A lady explained it to me. 'It is (ſaid ſhe) becauſe when money is plentiful there are ſo many more who have money to lend, that they bid down one another. Many have then a hundred pounds; and one ſays, Take mine rather than another's, and you ſhall have it at four per cent."’ BOSWELL. ‘"Does Lord Kames decide the queſtion?"’ JOHNSON. [258] ‘"I think he leaves it as he found it."’ BOSWELL. ‘"This muſt have been an extraordinary lady who inſtructed you, Sir. May I aſk who ſhe was?"’ JOHNSON. ‘"Molly Aſton ¹, Sir, the ſiſter of thoſe ladies with whom you dined at Lichfield.—I ſhall be at home to-morrow."’ BOSWELL. ‘"Then let us dine by ourſelves at the Mitre, to keep up the old cuſtom, 'the cuſtom of the Manor,' the cuſtom of the mitre."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Sir, ſo it ſhall be."’

On Saturday, May 9, we fulfilled our purpoſe of dining by ourſelves at the Mitre, according to old cuſtom. There was, on theſe occaſions, a little circumſtance of kind attention to Mrs. Williams, which muſt not be omitted. Before coming out, and leaving her to dine alone, he gave her her choice of a chicken, a ſweetbread, or any other little nice thing, which was carefully ſent to her from the tavern, ready dreſt.

Our converſation to-day, I know not how, turned, (I think for the only time at any length, during our long acquaintance,) upon the ſenſual intercourſe between the ſexes, the delight of which he aſcribed chiefly to imagination. ‘"Were it not for imagination, Sir, (ſaid he,) a man would be as happy in the arms of a chambermaid as of a Ducheſs. But ſuch is the adventitious charm of fancy, that we find men who have violated the beſt principles of ſociety, and ruined their fame and their fortune, that they might poſſeſs a woman of rank."’ It would not be proper to record the particulars of ſuch a converſation in mo⯑ments of unreſerved frankneſs, when nobody was preſent on whom it could have any hurtful effect. That ſubject, when philoſophically treated, may ſurely employ the mind in as curious diſcuſſion, and as innocently as anatomy; provided that thoſe who do treat it keep clear of inflammatory incentives.

‘"From grave to gay, from lively to ſevere,"’—we were ſoon engaged in very different ſpeculation; humbly and reverently conſidering and wondering at the univerſal myſtery of all things, as our imperfect faculties can now judge of them. ‘"There are (ſaid he) innumerable queſtions to which the inquiſi⯑tive mind can in this ſtate receive no anſwer: Why do you and I exiſt? Why was this world created? Since it was to be created, why was it not created ſooner?"’

[259] On Sunday, May 10, I ſupped with him at Mr. Hoole's, with Sir Joſhua Reynolds. I have neglected the memorial of this evening, ſo as to remember no more of it than two particulars; one, that he ſtrenuouſly oppoſed an argument by Sir Joſhua, that virtue was preferable to vice, conſidering this life only; and that a man would be virtuous were it only to preſerve his character: and, that he expreſſed much wonder at the curious formation of the bat, a mouſe with wings; ſaying, that ‘"it was almoſt as ſtrange a thing in phyſiology, as if the fabulous dragon could be ſeen."’

On Tueſday, May 12, I waited on the Earl of Marchmont, to know if his Lordſhip would favour Dr. Johnſon with information concerning Pope, whoſe Life he was about to write. Johnſon had not flattered himſelf with the hopes of receiving any civility from this nobleman; for he ſaid to me, when I mentioned Lord Marchmont as one who could tell him a great deal about Pope, ‘"Sir, he will tell me nothing."’ I had the honour of being known to his Lordſhip, and applied to him of myſelf, without being commiſſioned by Johnſon. His Lordſhip behaved in the moſt polite and obliging manner, promiſed to tell all he recollected about Pope, and was ſo very courteous as to ſay, ‘"Tell Dr. Johnſon I have a great reſpect for him, and am ready to ſhew it in any way I can. I am to be in the city to-morrow, and will call at his houſe as I return."’ His Lordſhip however aſked, ‘"Will he write the Lives of the Poets impartially? He was the firſt that brought Whig and Tory into a Dictionary. And what do you think of his definition of Exciſe? Do you know the hiſtory of his averſion to the word tranſpire?"’ Then taking down the folio Dictionary, he ſhewed it with this cenſure on its ſecondary ſenſe: ‘‘"To eſcape from ſecreſy to notice; a ſenſe lately innovated from France, without neceſſity."’ The truth was, Lord Bolingbroke, who left the Jacobites, firſt uſed it; therefore, it was to be condemned. He ſhould have ſhewn what word would do for it, if it was unneceſſary."’ I afterwards put the queſtion to Johnſon: ‘"Why, Sir, (ſaid he,) get abroad."’ BOSWELL. ‘"That, Sir, is uſing two words."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Sir, there's no end of this. You may as well inſiſt to have a word for old age."’ BOSWELL. ‘"Well, Sir, Senectus."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Nay, Sir, to inſiſt always that there ſhould be one word to expreſs a thing in Engliſh, becauſe there is one in another language, is to change the language."’

I availed myſelf of this opportunity to hear from his Lordſhip many par⯑ticulars both of Pope and Lord Bolingbroke, which I have in writing.

I propoſed to Lord Marchmont that he ſhould reviſe Johnſon's Life of Pope: ‘"So (ſaid his Lordſhip) you would put me in a dangerous ſituation. You know he knocked down Oſborne the bookſeller."’

[260] Elated with the ſucceſs of my ſpontaneous exertion to procure material and reſpectable aid to Johnſon for his very favourite work, ‘"The Lives of the Poets."’ I haſtened down to Mr. Thrale's at Streatham, where he now was, that I might inſure his being at home next day; and after dinner, when I thought he would receive the good news in the beſt humour, I announced it eagerly: ‘"I have been at work for you to-day, Sir. I have been with Lord Marchmont. He bid me tell you he has a great reſpect for you, and will call on you to-morrow at one o'clock, and communicate all he knows about Pope."’—Here I pauſed, in full expectation that he would be pleaſed with this intelligence, would praiſe my active merit, and would be alert to embrace ſuch an offer from a nobleman. But whether I had ſhewn an over exultation, which provoked his ſpleen; or whether he was ſeized with a ſuſpicion that I had obtruded him on Lord Marchmont, and had humbled him too much; or whether there was any thing more than an unlucky fit of ill humour, I know not; but, to my ſurprize, the reſult was,—JOHNSON. ‘"I ſhall not be in town to-morrow. I don't care to know about Pope."’ MRS. THRALE. (ſurprized as I was, and a little angry) ‘"I ſuppoſe, Sir, Mr. Boſwell thought, that as you are to write Pope's Life, you would wiſh to know about him."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Wiſh! why yes. If it rained know⯑ledge I'd hold out my hand; but I would not give myſelf the trouble to go in queſt of it."’ There was no arguing with him at the moment. Some time afterwards he ſaid, ‘"Lord Marchmont will call on me, and then I ſhall call on Lord Marchmont."’ Mr. Thrale was uneaſy at his unaccountable caprice; and told me, that if I did not take care to bring about a meeting between Lord Marchmont and him, it would never take place, which would be a great pity. I ſent a card to his Lordſhip, to be left at Johnſon's houſe, acquainting him, that Dr. Johnſon could not be in town next day, but would do himſelf the honour of waiting on him at another time.—I give this account fairly, as a ſpecimen of that unhappy temper with which this great and good man had occaſionally to ſtruggle, from ſomething morbid in his conſtitution. Let the moſt cenſorious of my readers ſuppoſe himſelf to have a violent fit of the tooth-ach, or to have received a ſevere ſtroke on the ſhin⯑bone, and when in ſuch a ſtate to be aſked a queſtion; and if he has any, candour, he will not be ſurprized at the anſwers which Johnſon ſometimes gave in moments of irritation, which, let me aſſure them, is exquiſitely painful. But it muſt not be erroneouſly ſuppoſed that he was, in the ſmalleſt degree, careleſs concerning any work which he undertook, or that he wsa generally thus peeviſh. It will be ſeen, that in the following year he had a very agreeable interview with Lord Marchmont, at his Lordſhip's [261] houſe; and this very afternoon he ſoon forgot any fretfulneſs, and fell into converſation as uſual.

I mentioned a reflection having been thrown out againſt four Peers for having preſumed to riſe in oppoſition to the opinion of the twelve Judges, in a cauſe in the Houſe of Lords, as if that were indecent. JOHNSON. ‘"Sir, there is no ground for cenſure. The Peers are Judges themſelves: and ſup⯑poſing them really to be of a different opinion, they might from duty be in oppoſition to the Judges, who were there only to be conſulted."’

In this obſervation I fully concurred with him; for, unqueſtionably, all the Peers are veſted with the higheſt judicial powers; and, when they are confident that they underſtand a cauſe, are not obliged, nay ought not to acquieſce in the opinion of the ordinary law Judges, or even in that of thoſe who from their ſtudies and experience are called the Law Lords. I conſider the Peers in general as I do a Jury, who ought to liſten with reſpectful atten⯑tion to the ſages of the law; but, if after hearing them, they have a firm opinion of their own, are bound, as honeſt men, to decide accordingly. Nor is it ſo difficult for them to underſtand even law queſtions, as is generally thought; provided they will beſtow ſufficient attention upon them. This obſervation was made by my honoured relation the late Lord Cathcart, who had ſpent his life in camps and courts; yet aſſured me, that he could form a clear opinion upon moſt of the cauſes that came before the Houſe of Lords, ‘"as they were ſo well enucleated in the Caſes."’

Mrs. Thrale told us, that a curious clergyman of our acquaintance had diſcovered a licentious ſtanza, which Pope had originally in his ‘"Univerſal Prayer,"’ before the ſtanza

It was this:

and that Dr. Johnſon obſerved, ‘"it had been borrowed from Guarini."’ There are, indeed, in Paſtor Fido, many ſuch flimſy ſuperficial reaſonings, as that in the two laſt lines of this ſtanza.

BOSWELL. ‘"In that ſtanza of Pope's, 'rod of ſires,' is certainly a bad metaphor."’ MRS. THRALE. ‘"And 'ſins of moment' is a faulty expreſſion; [262] for its true import is momentous, which cannot be intended."’ JOHNSON. ‘"It muſt have been written 'of moments.' Of moment, is momentous; of moments, momentary. I warrant you, however, Pope wrote this ſtanza, and ſome friend ſtruck it out. Boileau wrote ſome ſuch thing, and Arnaud ſtruck it out, ſaying, ‘"Vous gagnerez deux ou trois impies, et perdrez je ne ſais combien d [...] honnettes gens.’ Theſe fellows want to ſay a daring thing, and don't know how to go about it. Mere poets know no more of fundamental principles than—"’ Here he was interrupted ſomehow. Mrs. Thrale mentioned Dryden. JOHNSON. ‘"He puzzled himſelf about predeſtination.—How fooliſh was it in Pope to give all his friendſhip to Lords, who thought they honoured him by being with him; and to chooſe ſuch Lords as Burlington, and Cobham, and Bolingbroke? Bathurſt was negative, a pleaſing man; and I have heard no ill of Marchmont: and then always ſay⯑ing, 'I do not value you for being a Lord;' which was a ſure proof that he did. I never ſay, I do not value Boſwell more for being born to an eſtate, becauſe I do not care."’ BOSWELL. ‘"Nor for being a Scotchman?"’ JOHNSON. ‘"Nay, Sir, I do value you more for being a Scotchman. You are a Scotchman without the faults of Scotchmen. You would not have been ſo valuable as you are, had you not been a Scotchman."’

Talking of divorces, I aſked if Othello's doctrine was not plauſible:

Dr. Johnſon and Mrs. Thrale joined againſt this. JOHNSON. ‘"Aſk any man if he'd wiſh not to know of ſuch an injury."’ BOSWELL. ‘"Would you tell your friend to make him unhappy?"’ JOHNSON. ‘"Perhaps, Sir, I ſhould not; but that would be from prudence on my own account. A man would tell his father."’ BOSWELL. ‘"Yes; becauſe he would not have ſpurious children to get any ſhare of the family inheritance."’ MRS. THRALE. ‘"Or he would tell his brother."’ BOSWELL. ‘"Certainly his elder brother."’ JOHNSON. ‘"You would tell your friend of a woman's infamy, to prevent his marrying a whore: there is the ſame reaſon to tell him of his wife's infi⯑delity, when he is married, to prevent the conſequences of impoſition. It is a breach of confidence not to tell a friend."’ BOSWELL. ‘"Would you tell Mr.—?"’ (naming a gentleman who aſſuredly was not in the leaſt danger of ſuch a miſerable diſgrace, though married to a fine woman.) JOHNSON. ‘"No, Sir; becauſe it would do no good: he is ſo ſluggiſh, he'd never go to parliament and get through a divorce."’

[263] He ſaid of one of our friends, ‘"He is ruining himſelf without pleaſure. A man who loſes at play, or who runs out his fortune at court, makes his eſtate leſs, in hopes of making it bigger: (I am ſure of this word, which was often uſed by him:) but it is a ſad thing to paſs through the quagmire of parſimony, to the gulph of ruin. To paſs over the flowery path of extravagance is very well."’

Amongſt the numerous prints paſted on the walls of the dining-room at Streatham, was Hogarth's ‘"Modern Midnight Converſation."’ I aſked him what he knew of Parſon Ford, who makes a conſpicuous figure in the riotous groupe. JOHNSON. ‘"Sir, he was my acquaintance and relation, my mother's nephew. He had purchaſed a living in the country, but not ſimoniacally. I never ſaw him but in the country. I have been told he was a man of great parts; very profligate, but I never heard he was impious."’ BOSWELL. ‘"Was there not a ſtory of his ghoſt having appeared?"’ JOHNSON. ‘"Sir, it was believed. A waiter at the Hummums, in which houſe Ford died, had been abſent for ſome time, and returned, not knowing that Ford was dead. Going down to the cellar, according to the ſtory, he met him; going down again he met him a ſecond time. When he came up, he aſked ſome of the people of the houſe what Ford could be doing there. They told him Ford was dead. The waiter took a fever, in which he lay for ſome time. When he recovered, he ſaid he had a meſſage to deliver to ſome women from Ford; but he was not to tell what, or to whom. He walked out; he was followed; but ſomewhere about St. Paul's they loſt him. He came back, and ſaid he had delivered the meſſage, and the women exclaimed, 'Then we are all undone!' Dr. Pellet, who was not a credulous man, inquired into the truth of this ſtory, and he ſaid, the evidence was irreſiſtible. My wife went to the Hummums; (it is a place where people get themſelves cupped.) I believe ſhe went with intention to hear about this ſtory of Ford. At firſt they made difficulty to tell her; but, after they had talked to her, ſhe came away ſatisfied that it was true. To be ſure, the man had a fever; and this viſion may have been the beginning of it. But if the meſſage to the women, and their behaviour upon it were true as related, there was ſomething ſupernatural. That reſts upon his word; and there it remains."’

After Mrs. Thrale was gone to bed, Johnſon and I ſat up late. We reſumed Sir Joſhua Reynolds's argument on Sunday laſt, that a man would be virtuous though he had no other motive than to preſerve his character. JOHNSON. ‘"Sir, it is not true: for as to this world vice does not hurt a man's character."’ BOSWELL. ‘"Yes, Sir; debauching a friend's wife will."’ JOHNSON. ‘"No, [264] Sir. Who thinks the worſe of—for it?"’ BOSWELL. ‘"Lord—was not his friend."’ JOHNSON. ‘"That is only a circumſtance, Sir; a ſlight diſtinction. He could not get into the houſe but by Lord—. A man is choſen Knight of the ſhire, not the leſs for having debauched ladies."’ BOSWELL. ‘"What, Sir, if he debauched the ladies of gentlemen in the county, will not there be a general reſentment againſt him?"’ JOHNSON. ‘"No, Sir. He will loſe thoſe particular gentlemen; but the reſt will not trouble their heads about it."’ (warmly.) BOSWELL. ‘"Well, Sir, I cannot think ſo."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Nay, Sir, there is no talking with a man who will diſpute what every body knows. (angrily.) Don't you know this?"’ BOSWELL. ‘"No, Sir; and I wiſh to think better of your country than you repreſent it. I knew in Scotland a gentleman obliged to leave it for debauching a lady; and in one of our counties an Earl's brother loſt his election, becauſe he had debauched the lady of another Earl in that county, and broken the peace of a noble family."’

Still he would not yield. He proceeded: ‘"Will you not allow, Sir, that vice does not hurt a man's character ſo as to obſtruct his proſperity in life, when you know that—was loaded with wealth and honours; a man who had acquired his fortune by ſuch crimes, that his conſciouſneſs of them impelled him to cut his own throat."’ BOSWELL. ‘"You will recollect, Sir, that Dr. Robertſon ſaid, he cut his throat becauſe he was weary of ſtill life; little things not being ſufficient to move his great mind."’ JOHNSON. (very angry) ‘"Nay, Sir, what ſtuff is this? You had no more this opinion after Robertſon ſaid it, than before. I know nothing more offenſive than repeating what one knows to be fooliſh things, by way of continuing a diſpute, to ſee what a man will anſwer, to make him your butt!"’ (angrier ſtill.) BOSWELL. ‘"My dear Sir, I had no ſuch intention as you ſeem to ſuſpect; I had not indeed. Might not this nobleman have felt every thing 'weary, ſtale, flat, and unprofitable,' as Hamlet ſays?"’ JOHNSON. ‘"Nay, if you are to bring in gabble, I'll talk no more. I will not, upon my honour."’ My readers will decide upon this diſpute.

Next morning I ſtated to Mrs. Thrale at breakfaſt, before he came down, the diſpute of laſt night as to the influence of character upon ſucceſs in life. She ſaid he was certainly wrong; and told me, that a Baronet loſt an election in Wales, becauſe he had debauched the ſiſter of a gentleman in the county, whom he made one of his daughters invite as her companion at his ſeat in the country, when his lady and his other children were in London. But ſhe would not encounter Johnſon upon the ſubject.

[265] I ſtaid all this day with him at Streatham. He talked a great deal, in very good humour.

Looking at Meſſrs. Dillys' ſplendid edition of Lord Cheſterfield's miſcella⯑neous works, he laughed, and ſaid, ‘"Here now are two ſpeeches aſcribed to him, both of which were written by me: and the beſt of it is, they have found out that one is like Demoſthenes, and the other like Cicero."’

He cenſured Lord Kames's ‘"Sketches of the Hiſtory of Man,"’ for miſ⯑repreſenting Clarendon's account of the appearance of Sir George Villiers's ghoſt, as if Clarendon were weakly credulous; when the truth is, that Clarendon only ſays, that the ſtory was upon a better foundation of credit, than uſually ſuch diſcourſes are founded upon, nay, ſpeaks thus of the perſon who was reported to have ſeen the viſion, ‘"the poor man, if he had been at all waking;"’ which Lord Kames has omitted. He added, ‘"in this book it is maintained that virtue is natural to man, and that if we would but conſult our own hearts we ſhould be virtuous. Now after conſulting our own hearts all we can, and with all the helps we have, we find how few of us are virtuous. This is ſaying a thing which all mankind know not to be true."’ BOSWELL. ‘"Is not modeſty natural?"’ JOHNSON. ‘"I cannot ſay, Sir, as we find no people quite in a ſtate of nature; but I think the more they are taught, the more modeſt they are. The French are a groſs, ill-bred, untaught people; a lady there will ſpit on the floor and rub it with her foot. What I gained by being in France was, learning to be better ſatisfied with my own country. Time may be employed to more advantage from nineteen to twenty-four almoſt in any way than in travelling; when you ſet travelling againſt mere negation, againſt doing nothing, it is better to be ſure; but how much more would a young man improve were he to ſtudy during thoſe years. Indeed, if a young man is wild, and muſt run after women and bad company, it is better this ſhould be done abroad, as, on his return, he can break off ſuch connections, and begin at home a new man, with a character to form, and acquaintances to make. How little does travelling ſupply to the converſation of any man who has travelled? how little to Beauclerk?"’ BOSWELL. ‘"What ſay you to Lord—?"’ JOHNSON. ‘"I never but once heard him talk of what he had ſeen, and that was of a large ſerpent in one of the Pyramids of Egypt."’ BOSWELL. ‘"Well, I happened to hear him tell the ſame thing, which made me mention him."’

I talked of a country life.—JOHNSON. ‘"Were I to live in the country I would not devote myſelf to the acquiſition of popularity; I would live in a much better way, much more happily; I would have my time at my own command."’ [266] BOSWELL. ‘"But, Sir, is it not a ſad thing to be at a diſtance from all our literary friends?"’ JOHNSON. ‘"Sir, you will by and by have enough of this converſation, which now delights you ſo much."’

As he was a zealous friend of ſubordination, he was at all times watchful to repreſs the vulgar cant againſt the manners of the great; ‘"High people, Sir, (ſaid he,) are the beſt; take a hundred ladies of quality, you'll find them better wives, better mothers, more willing to ſacrifice their own pleaſure to their children, than a hundred other women. Tradeſwomen (I mean the wives of tradeſmen) in the city, who are worth from ten to fifteen thouſand pounds, are the worſt creatures upon the earth, groſsly ignorant, and thinking viciouſ⯑neſs faſhionable. Farmers, I think, are often worthleſs fellows. Few lords will cheat; and, if they do, they'll be aſhamed of it: farmers cheat and are not aſhamed of it: they have all the ſenſual vices too of the nobility, with cheating into the bargain. There is as much fornication and adultery amongſt farmers as amongſt noblemen."’ BOSWELL. ‘"The notion of the world, Sir, however is, that the morals of women of quality are worſe than thoſe in lower ſtations."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Yes, Sir, the licentiouſneſs of one woman of quality makes more noiſe than that of a number of women in lower ſtations; then, Sir, you are to conſider the malignity of women in the city againſt women of quality, which will make them believe any thing of them, ſuch as that they call their coachmen to bed. No, Sir, ſo far as I have obſerved, the higher in rank, the richer ladies are, they are the better inſtructed and the more virtuous."’

This year the Reverend Mr. Horne publiſhed his ‘"Letter to Mr. Dunning, on the Engliſh Particle;’ Johnſon read it, and though not treated in it with ſufficient reſpect, he had candour enough to ſay to Mr. Seward, ‘"Were I to make a new edition of my Dictionary, I would adopt ſeveral² of Mr. Horne's etymologies; I hope they did not put the dog in the pillory for his libel; he has too much literature for that."’

On Saturday, May 16, I dined with him at Mr. Beauclerk's, with Mr. Langton, Mr. Steevens, Dr. Higgins, and ſome others. I regret very feelingly every inſtance of my remiſſneſs in recording his memorabilia; I am afraid it is the condition of humanity (as Mr. Windham, of Norfolk, once obſerved to me, after having made an admirable ſpeech in the Houſe of Commons, which was highly applauded, but which he afterwards perceived [267] might have been better:) ‘"that we are more uneaſy from thinking of our wants, than happy in thinking of our acquiſitions."’ This is an unreaſonable mode of diſturbing our tranquillity, and ſhould be corrected; let me then comfort myſelf with the large treaſure of Johnſon's converſation which I have preſerved for my own enjoyment and that of the world, and let me exhibit what I have upon each occaſion, whether more or leſs, whether a bulſe, or only a few ſparks of diamond.

He ſaid, ‘"Dr. Mead lived more in the broad ſun-ſhine of life than almoſt any man."’

The diſaſter of General Burgoyne's army was then the common topick of converſation. It was aſked why piling their arms was inſiſted upon as a matter of ſuch conſequence, when it ſeemed to be a circumſtance ſo incon⯑ſiderable in itſelf. JOHNSON. ‘"Why, Sir, a French authour ſays, 'Il y a beaucoup de puerilités dans la guerre.' All diſtinctions are trifles, becauſe great things can ſeldom occur, and thoſe diſtinctions are ſettled by cuſtom. A ſavage would as willingly have his meat ſent to him in the kitchen, as eat it at the table here; as men become civiliſed, various modes of denoting ho⯑nourable preference are invented."’

He this day made the obſervations upon the ſimilarity between ‘"Raſſelas"’ and ‘"Candide,"’ which I have inſertéd in its proper place, when conſidering his admirable philoſophical Romance. He ſaid ‘"Candide"’ he thought had more power in it than any thing that Voltaire had written.

He ſaid, ‘"The lyrical part of Horace never can be perfectly tranſlated; ſo much of the excellence is in the numbers and the expreſſion. Francis has done it the beſt; I'll take his, five out of ſix, againſt them all."’

On Sunday, May 17, I preſented to him Mr. Fullarton, of Fullarton, who has ſince diſtinguiſhed himſelf ſo much in India, to whom he naturally talked of travels, as Mr. Brydone accompanied him in his tour to Sicily and Malta. He ſaid, ‘"The information which we have from modern travellers is much more authentick than what we had from ancient travellers; ancient travellers gueſſed; modern travellers meaſure. The Swiſs admit that there is but one errour in Stanyan. If Brydone were more attentive to his Bible, he would be a good traveller."’

He ſaid, ‘"Lord Chatham was a Dictator; he poſſeſſed the power of putting the State in motion; now there is no power, all order is relaxed."’ BOSWELL. ‘"Is there no hope of a change to the better?"’ JOHNSON. ‘"Why, yes, Sir, when we are weary of this relaxation. So the City of London will appoint its Mayors again by ſeniority."’ BOSWELL. ‘"But is not that taking a [268] mere chance for having a good or a bad Mayor?"’ JOHNSON. ‘"Yes, Sir; but the evil of competition is greater than that of the worſt Mayor that can come; beſides, there is no more reaſon to ſuppoſe that the choice of a rabble will be right, than that chance will be right."’

On Tueſday, May 19, I was to ſet out for Scotland in the evening. He was engaged to dine with me at Mr. Dilly's, I waited upon him to remind him of his appointment and attend him thither; he gave me ſome ſalutary counſel, and recommended vigorous reſolution againſt any deviation from moral duty. BOSWELL. ‘"But you would not have me to bind myſelf by a ſolemn obligation?"’ JOHNSON. (much agitated) ‘"What! a vow—O, no, Sir, a vow is a horrible thing, it is a ſnare for ſin. The man who cannot go to Heaven without a vow—may go—"’ Here, ſtanding erect, in the middle of his library, and rolling grand, his pauſe was truly a curious compound of the ſolemn and the ludicrous; he half-whiſtled in his uſual way, when pleaſant, and he pauſed, as if checked by religious awe.—Methought he would have added—to Hell—but was reſtrained. I humoured the dilemma. ‘"What! Sir, (ſaid I,) 'In coelum juſſeris ibit;"’ alluding to his imitation of it,

I had mentioned to him a ſlight fault in his noble ‘"Imitation of the Tenth Satire of Juvenal,"’ a too near recurrence of the verb ſpread, in his deſcription of the young Enthuſiaſt at College:

He had deſired me to change ſpreads to burns, but for perfect authenticity, I now had it done with his own hand ³. I thought this alteration not only cured the fault, but was more poetical, as it might carry an alluſion to the ſhirt by which Hercules was inflamed.

We had a quiet comfortable meeting at Mr. Dilly's; nobody there but ourſelves, Mr. Dilly mentioned ſomebody having wiſhed that Milton's ‘"Tractate on Education"’ ſhould be printed along with his Poems in the [269] edition of the Engliſh Poets then going on. JOHNSON. ‘"It would be breaking in upon the plan; but would be of no great conſequence. So far as it would be any thing it would be wrong. Education in England has been in danger of being hurt by two of its greateſt men, Milton and Locke. Milton's plan is impracticable, and I ſuppoſe has never been tried. Locke's, I fancy has been tried often enough; but is very imperfect, it gives too much to one ſide, and too little to the other; it gives too little to literature. I ſhall do what I can for Dr. Watts; but my materials are very ſcanty. His poems are by no means his beſt works; I cannot praiſe his poetry itſelf highly; but I can praiſe its deſign."’

My illuſtrious friend and I parted with aſſurances of affectionate regard.

Johnſon maintained a long and intimate friendſhip with Mr. Welch, who ſucceeded the celebrated Henry Fielding as one of his Majeſty's Juſtices of the Peace for Weſtminſter; kept a regular office for the police of that great diſtrict; and diſcharged his important truſt, for many years, faithfully and ably. Johnſon, who had an eager and unceaſing curioſity to know human life in all its variety, told me, that he attended Mr. Welch in his office for a whole winter, to hear the examinations of the culprits; but that he found an almoſt uniform tenor of misfortune, wretchedneſs, and profligacy. Mr. Welch's health being impaired, he was adviſed to try the effect of a warm climate; and Johnſon, by his intereſt with Mr. Chamier, procured him leave of abſence to go to Italy, and a promiſe that the penſion or ſalary of two hundred pounds a year, which Government allowed him, ſhould not be diſcontinued. Mr. Welch accordingly went abroad, accompanied by his daughter Anne, a young lady of uncommon talents and literature. I have been fortunate enough, as this work was paſſing through the preſs, to obtain the following letter; which, although the firſt part of my narrative of this year was printed off before I received it, will now come in with very little deviation from chronological order.

This letter, while it gives admirable advice how to travel to the beſt advantage, and will therefore be of very general uſe, is another eminent proof of Johnſon's warm and affectionate heart ⁴.

I wrote to him on the 25th of May, from Thorpe, in Yorkſhire, one of the ſeats of Mr. Boſville, and gave him an account of my having paſſed a day at Lincoln, unexpectedly, and therefore without having any letters of intro⯑duction, but that I had been honoured with civilities from the Reverend Mr. Simpſon, an acquaintance of his, and Captain Broadley, of the Lincoln⯑ſhire Militia; but more particularly from the Reverend Dr. Gordon, the Chancellor, who firſt received me with great politeneſs as a ſtranger, and when I had informed him who I was, entertained me at his houſe with the moſt flattering attention; I alſo expreſſed the pleaſure with which I had ſound that our worthy friend Langton was highly eſteemed in his own county town—.

[273] Mr. Langton has been pleaſed, at my requeſt, to favour me with ſome particulars of Dr. Johnſon's viſit to Warley-Camp, where this gentleman was at the time ſtationed, as a Captain in the Lincolnſhire militia. I ſhall give them in his own words in a letter to me.

In the courſe of this year there was a difference between him and his friend Mr. Strahan; the particulars of which it is unneceſſary to relate. Their reconciliation was communicated to me in a letter from Mr. Strahan, in the following words:

[276] After this time, the ſame friendſhip as formerly continued between Dr. Johnſon and Mr. Strahan. My friend mentioned to me a little circumſtance of his attention, which, though we may ſmile at it, muſt be allowed to have its foundation in a nice and true knowledge of human life. ‘"When I write to Scotland, (ſaid he,) I employ Strahan to frank my letters, that he may have the conſequence of appearing a Parliament-man among his countrymen."’

I wrote to him on the 18th of Auguſt, the 18th of September, and the 6th of November; informing him of my having had another ſon born, whom I had called James; that I had paſſed ſome time at Auchinleck; that the [277] Counteſs of Loudoun, now in her ninety-ninth year, was as freſh as when he ſaw her, and remembered him with reſpect; and that his mother by adop⯑tion, the Counteſs of Eglintoune, had ſaid to me, ‘"Tell Mr. Johnſon I love him exceedingly;"’ that I had again ſuffered much from bad ſpirits; and that as it was very long ſince I heard from him, I was not a little uneaſy.

The continuance of his regard for his friend Dr. Burney, appears from the following letters:

Theſe letters procured Dr. Burney great kindneſs and friendly offices from both of theſe gentlemen, not only on that occaſion, but in future viſits to the univerſity. The ſame year Dr. Johnſon not only wrote to Dr. Joſeph Warton in favour of Dr. Burney's youngeſt ſon, who was to be placed in the college there, but accompanied him to Wincheſter, when he went thither.

We ſurely cannot but admire the benevolent exertions of this great and good man, eſpecially when we conſider how grievouſly he was afflicted with bad health, and how uncomfortable his home was made by the perpetual jarring of thoſe whom he charitably accommodated under his roof. He has ſometimes ſuffered me to talk jocularly of his groupe of females, and call them his Seraglio. He thus mentions them, together with honeſt Levett, in one of his letters to Mrs. Thrale⁸: ‘"Williams hates every body; Levett hates Deſmoulins, and does not love Williams; Deſmoulins hates them both; Poll⁹ loves none of them."’

About this time Mr. John Huſſey, who had been ſome time in trade, and is now a clergyman of the Church of England, being about to undertake a journey to Aleppo, and other parts of the Eaſt, which he accompliſhed, Dr. Johnſon honoured him with the following letter:

Johnſon this year expreſſed great ſatisfaction at the publication of the firſt volume of ‘"Diſcourſes to the Royal Academy,"’ by Sir Joſhua Reynolds, whom he always conſidered as one of his literary ſchool. Much praiſe indeed is due to thoſe excellent Diſcourſes, which are ſo univerſally admired, and for which the authour lately received from the Empreſs of Ruſſia a gold ⁹⁵ [280] ſnuff-box, adorned with her profile in bas relief, ſet in diamonds; and containing what is infinitely more valuable, a ſlip of paper, on which are written with her Imperial Majeſty's own hand, the following words: ‘"Pour le Chevalier Reynolds en temoignage du contentement que j'ai reſſentie à la lecture de ſes excellens diſcours ſur la peinture."’

In 1779, Johnſon proceeded, at intervals, in writing his ‘"Lives of the Poets."’

On the 22d of January, I wrote to him on ſeveral topicks, and mentioned that as he had been ſo good as to permit me to have the proof ſheets of his ‘"Lives of the Poets,"’ I had written to his ſervant, Francis, to take care of them for me.

On the 23d of February I wrote to him again, complaining of his ſilence, as I had heard he was ill, and had written to Mr. Thrale for information concerning him; and I announced my intention of ſoon being again in London.

This letter croſſed me on the road to London, where I arrived on Monday, March 15, and next morning at a late hour, found Dr. Johnſon ſitting over [282] his tea, attended by Mrs. Deſmoulins, Mr. Levett, and a clergyman, who had come to ſubmit ſome poetical pieces to his reviſion. It is wonderful what a number and variety of writers, ſome of them even unknown to him, prevailed on his good-nature to look over their works, and ſuggeſt corrections and improvements. My arrival interrupted for a little while, the important buſineſs of this true repreſentative of Bayes; upon its being reſumed, I found that the ſubject under immediate conſideration was a tranſlation, yet in manuſcript, of the Carmen Seculare of Horace, which had this year been ſet to muſick, and performed as a publick entertainment in London, for the joint benefit of Monſieur Philidor and Signor Baretti. When Johnſon had done reading, the authour aſked him bluntly, ‘"If upon the whole it was a good tranſlation?"’ Johnſon, whoſe regard for truth was uncommonly ſtrict, ſeemed to be puzzled for a moment, what anſwer to make, as he certainly could not honeſtly commend the performance: with exquiſite addreſs he evaded the queſtion thus, ‘"Sir, I do not ſay that it may not be made a very good tranſlation."’ Here nothing whatever in favour of the performance was affirmed, and yet the writer was not ſhocked. A printed ‘"Ode to the Warlike Genius of Britain,"’ came next in review; the bard was a lank bony figure, with ſhort black hair; he was writhing himſelf in agitation, while Johnſon read, and ſhewing his teeth in a grin of earneſtneſs, exclaimed in broken ſentences, and in a keen ſharp tone, ‘"Is that poetry, Sir?—Is it Pindar?"’ JOHNSON. ‘"Why, Sir, there is here a great deal of what is called poetry."’ Then turning to me, the poet cried, ‘"My muſe has not been long upon the town, and (pointing to the Ode) it trembles under the hand of the great critick."’ Johnſon in a tone of diſpleaſure aſked him, ‘"Why do you praiſe Anſon?"’ I did not trouble him by aſking his reaſon for this queſtion. He proceeded, ‘"Here is an errour, Sir; you have made Genius feminine."’—‘"Palpable, Sir; (cried the enthuſiaſt) I know it. But (in a lower tone) it was to pay a compliment to the Ducheſs of Devonſhire, with which her Grace was pleaſed. She is walking acroſs Coxheath, in the military uniform, and I ſuppoſe her to be the Genius of Britain."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Sir you are giving a reaſon for it, but that will not make it right. You may have a reaſon why two and two ſhould make five; but they will ſtill make but four."’

Although I was ſeveral times with him in the courſe of the following days, ſuch it ſeems were my occupations, or ſuch my negligence, that I have preſerved no memorial of his converſation till Friday, March 26, when I viſited him. He ſaid he expected to be attacked on account of his [283] ‘"Lives of the Poets."’ ‘"However (ſaid he) I would rather be attacked than unnoticed. For the worſt thing you can do to an authour is to be ſilent as to his works. An aſſault upon a town is a bad thing; but ſtarving it is ſtill worſe; an aſſault may be unſucceſsful; you may have more men killed than you kill; but if you ſtarve the town you are ſure of a victory."’

Talking of a friend of our's aſſociating with perſons of very diſcordant principles and characters; I ſaid he was a very univerſal man, quite a man of the world. JOHNSON. ‘"Yes, Sir; but one may be ſo much a man of the world as to be nothing in the world. I remember a paſſage in Goldſmith's 'Vicar of Wakefield,' which he was afterwards fool enough to expunge: 'I do not love a man who is zealous for nothing."’ BOSWELL. ‘"That was a fine paſſage."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Yes, Sir: there was another fine paſſage too, which he ſtruck out: 'When I was a young man, being anxious to diſtinguiſh myſelf, I was perpetually ſtarting new propoſitions. But I ſoon gave this over; for, I found that generally what was new was falſe."’ I ſaid I did not like to ſit with people of whom I had not a good opinion. JOHNSON. ‘"But you muſt not indulge your delicacy too much; or you will be a tête à tête man all your life."’

During my ſtay in London, this ſpring, I find I was unaccountably negli⯑gent in preſerving Johnſon's ſayings, more ſo than at any time when I was happy enough to have an opportunity of hearing his wiſdom and wit. There is no help for it now. I muſt content myſelf with preſenting ſuch ſcraps as I have. But I am nevertheleſs aſhamed and vexed to think how much has been loſt. It is not that there was a bad crop this year; but that I was not ſufficiently careful in gathering it in. I, therefore, in ſome inſtances can only exhibit a few detached fragments.

Talking of the wonderful concealment of the authour of the celebrated letters ſigned Junius; he ſaid, ‘"I ſhould have believed Burke to be Junius, becauſe I know no man but Burke who is capable of writing theſe letters; but Burke ſpontaneouſly denied it to me. The caſe would have been different had I aſked him if he was the authour; a man ſo queſtioned, as to an anonymous publication, may think he has a right to deny it.’

He obſerved that his old friend, Mr. Sheridan, had been honoured with extraordinary attention in his own country, by having had an exception made in his favour in an Iriſh Act of Parliament concerning inſolvent debtors. ‘"To be thus ſingled out (ſaid he) by a legiſlature, as an object of publick conſideration and kindneſs, is a proof of no common merit."’

[284] At Streatham, on Monday, March 29, at breakfaſt he maintained that a▪ father had no right to control the inclinations of his daughters in marriage.

On Wedneſday, March 31, when I viſited him, and confeſſed an exceſs of which I had very ſeldom been guilty; that I had ſpent a whole night in play⯑ing at cards, and that I could not look back on it with ſatisfaction. Inſtead of a harſh animadverſion, he mildly ſaid, ‘"Alas, Sir, on how few things can we look back with ſatisfaction."’

On Thurſday, April 1, he commended one of the Dukes of Devonſhire for ‘"a dogged veracity ³."’ He ſaid too, ‘"London is nothing to ſome peoples▪ but to a man whoſe pleaſure is intellectual, London is the place. And there is no place where oeconomy can be ſo well practiſed as in London. More can be had here for the money, even by ladies, than any where elſe. You cannot play tricks with your fortune in a ſmall place; you muſt make an uniform appearance. Here a lady may have well-furniſhed apartments, and elegant dreſs, without any meat in her kitchen."’

I was amuſed by conſidering with how much eaſe and coolneſs he could write or talk to a friend, exhorting him not to ſuppoſe that happineſs was not to be found as well in other places as in London; when he himſelf was at all times ſenſible of its being, comparatively ſpeaking, a heaven upon earth. The truth is, that by thoſe who from ſagacity, attention, and experience, have learnt the full advantage of London, its pre-eminence over every other place, not only for variety of enjoyment, but for comfort, will be▪felt with a philo⯑ſophical exultation. The freedom from remark and petty cenſure, with which life may be paſſed there, is a circircumſtance which a man who knows the teizing reſtraint of a narrow circle muſt reliſh highly. Mr. Burke, whoſe orderly and amiable domeſtick habits might make the eye of obſervation leſs irkſome to him than to moſt men, ſaid once very pleaſantly, in my hearing, ‘"Though I have the honour to repreſent Briſtol, I ſhould not like to live there; I ſhould be obliged to be ſo much upon my good behaviour:"’ In London, a man may live in ſplendid ſociety at one time, and in frugal retire⯑ment another, without animadverſion. There, and there alone, a man's own houſe is truly his caſtle, in which he can be in perfect ſafety from intruſion whenever he pleaſes. I never ſhall forget how well this was expreſſed to me one day by Mr. Meynell: ‘"The chief advantage of London (ſaid he) is, that a man is always ſo near his burrow."’

He ſaid of one of his old acquaintances, ‘"He is very fit for a travelling governour. He knows French very well. He is a man of good principles; [285] and there would be no danger that a young gentleman ſhould catch his man⯑ner; for it is ſo very bad, that it muſt be avoided. In that reſpect he would be like the drunken Helot."’

On Friday, April 2, being Good-Friday, I viſited him in the morning as uſual; and finding that we inſenſibly fell into a train of ridicule upon the foibles of one of our friends, a very worthy man, I, by way of a check, quoted ſome good admonition from ‘"The Government of the Tongue,"’ that very pious book. It happened alſo remarkably enough, that the ſubject of the ſermon preached to us to-day by Dr. Burrows, the rector of St. Clement Danes, upon the certainty that at the laſt day we muſt give an account of ‘"the deeds done in the body;"’ and, amongſt various acts of culpability he mentioned evil-ſpeaking. As we were moving ſlowly along in the croud from church, Johnſon jogged my elbow, and ſaid, ‘"Did you attend to the ſermon?"’—‘"Yes, Sir, (ſaid I,) it was very applicable to us."’ He, how⯑ever, ſtood upon the defenſive. ‘"Why, Sir, the ſenſe of ridicule is given us, and may be lawfully uſed. The authour of 'The Government of the Tongue' would have us to treat all men alike."’

In the interval between morning and evening ſervice, he endeavoured to employ himſelf earneſtly in devotional exerciſes; and, as he has mentioned in his ‘"Prayers and Meditations ⁴,"’ gave me ‘"Les Penſees de Paſcal,"’ that I might not interrupt him. I preſerve the book with reverence. His pre⯑ſenting it to me is marked upon it with his own hand, and I have found in it a truly divine unction. We went to church again in the afternoon.

On Saturday, April 3, I viſited him at night, and found him ſitting in Mrs. Williams's room, with her, and one who he afterwards told me was a natural ſon of the ſecond Lord Southwell. The table had a ſingular appearance, being covered with a heterogeneous aſſemblage of oyſters and porter for his company, and tea for himſelf. I mentioned my having heard an eminent phyſician, who was himſelf a Chriſtian, argue in favour of univerſal toleration, and maintain, that no man could be hurt by another man's differing from him in opinion. JOHNSON ‘"Sir, you are to a certain degree hurt by knowing that even one man does not believe."’

On Eaſter-day, after ſolemn ſervice at St. Paul's, I dined with him: Mr. Allen the printer was alſo his gueſt. He was uncommonly ſilent; and I have not written down any thing, except a ſingle curious fact, which, having the ſanction of his inflexible veracity, may be received as a ſtriking inſtance of human inſenſibility and inconſideration. As he was paſſing by a fiſh⯑monger [286] who was ſkinning an eel alive, he heard him ‘"curſe it, becauſe it would not lye ſtill."’

On Wedneſday, April 7, I dined with him at Sir Joſhua Reynolds's. I have not marked what company was there. Johnſon harangued upon the qualities of different liquors; and ſpoke with great contempt of claret, as ſo weak, that ‘"a man would be drowned by it before it made him drunk."’ He was perſuaded to drink one glaſs of it, that he might judge, not from recollection, which might be dim, but from immediate ſenſation. He ſhook his head, and ſaid, ‘"Poor ſtuff. No, Sir, claret is the liquor for boys; port, for men: but he who aſpires to be a hero (ſmiling) muſt drink brandy. In the firſt place, the flavour of brandy is moſt grateful to the palate; and then brandy will do ſooneſt for a man what drinking can do for him. There are, [...]ndeed, few who are able to drink brandy. That is a power rather to be wiſhed for than attained. And yet (proceeded he) as in all pleaſure hope is a conſiderable part, I know not but fruition comes too quick by brandy. Florence wine I think the worſt; it is wine only to the eye; it is wine neither while you are drinking it, nor after you have drunk it; it neither pleaſes the taſte, nor exhilarates the ſpirits."’ I reminded him how heartily he and I uſed to drink wine together when we were firſt acquainted; and how I uſed to have a head-ache after ſitting up with him. He did not like to have this recalled, or, perhaps, thinking that I boaſted improperly, reſolved to have a witty ſtroke at me: ‘"Nay, Sir, it was not the wine that made your head ache, but the ſenſe that I put into it."’ BOSWELL. ‘"What, Sir! will ſenſe make the head ache?"’ JOHNSON. ‘"Yes, Sir, (with a ſmile) when it is not uſed to it."’ No man who has a true reliſh of pleaſantry could be offended at this; eſpecially if Johnſon in a long intimacy had given him repeated proofs of his regard and good eſtimation. I uſed to ſay, that as he had given me a thouſand pounds in praiſe, he had a good right now and then to take a guinea from me.

On Thurſday, April 8, I dined with him at Mr. Allan Ramſay's, with Lord Graham and ſome other company. We talked of Shakſpeare's witches. JOHNSON. ‘"They are beings of his own creation; they are a compound of malignity and meanneſs, without any abilities; and are quite different from the Italian magician. King James ſays, in his 'Daemonology,' 'Magicians command the devils; witches are their ſervants.' The Italian magicians are elegant beings."’ RAMSAY. ‘"Opera witches, not Drury-lane witches."’ Johnſon obſerved, that abilities might be employed in a narrow ſphere, as in [287] getting money, which he ſaid he believed no man could do, without vigorous parts, though concentrated to a point. RAMSAY. ‘"Yes, like a ſtrong horſe in a mill: he pulls better."’

Lord Graham, while he praiſed the beauty of Lochlomond, on the banks of which is his family ſeat, complained of the climate, and ſaid he could not bear it. JOHNSON. ‘"Nay, my Lord, don't talk ſo: you may bear it well enough. Your anceſtors have borne it more years than I can tell."’ This was a handſome compliment to the antiquity of the houſe of Montroſe. His Lord⯑ſhip told me afterwards, that he had only affected to complain of the climate; leſt, if he had ſpoken as favourably of his country as he really thought, Dr. Johnſon might have attacked it. Johnſon was very courteous to Lady Margaret Macdonald. ‘"Madam, (ſaid he,) when I was in the Iſle of Sky, I heard of the people running to take the ſtones off the road, leſt Lady Margaret's horſe ſhould ſtumble."’

Lord Graham commended Dr. Drummond at Naples, as a man of extra⯑ordinary talents; and added, that he had a great love of liberty. JOHNSON. ‘"He is young, my Lord; (looking to his Lordſhip with an arch ſmile) all boys love liberty, till experience convinces them they are not ſo fit to govern them⯑ſelves as they imagined. We are all agreed as to our own liberty; we would have as much of it as we can get; but we are not agreed as to the liberty of others: for in proportion as we take, others muſt loſe. I believe we hardly wiſh that the mob ſhould have liberty to govern us. When that was the caſe ſome time ago, no man was at liberty not to have candles in his windows."’ RAMSAY. ‘"The reſult is, that order is better than confuſion."’ JOHNSON. ‘"The reſult is, that order cannot be had but by ſubordination."’

On Friday, April 16, I had been preſent at the trial of the unfortunate Mr. Hackman, who, in a fit of frantick jealous love, had ſhot Miſs Ray, the favourite of a nobleman. Johnſon, in whoſe company I dined to-day, with ſome other friends, was much intereſted by my account of what paſſed, and particularly with his prayer for the mercy of heaven. He ſaid, in a ſolemn fervid tone, ‘"I hope he ſhall find mercy."’

This day a violent altercation aroſe between Johnſon and Beauclerk, which having made much noiſe at the time, I think it proper, in order to prevent any future miſrepreſentation, to give a minute account of it.

In talking of Hackman, Johnſon argued, as Judge Blackſtone had done, that his being furniſhed with two piſtols was a proof that he meant to ſhoot two perſons. Mr. Beauclerk ſaid, ‘"No; for that every wiſe man who intended to ſhoot himſelf, took two piſtols, that he might be ſure of doing it [288] at once. Lord—'s cook ſhot himſelf with one piſtol, and lived ten days in great agony. Mr.—, who loved buttered muffins, but durſt not eat them becauſe they diſagreed with his ſtomach, reſolved to ſhoot himſelf; and then he eat three buttered muffins for breakfaſt, before ſhooting himſelf, knowing that he ſhould not be troubled with indigeſtion: he had two charged piſtols; one was found lying charged upon the table by him, after he had ſhot himſelf with the other."’—‘"Well, (ſaid Johnſon, with an air of triumph,) you ſee here one piſtol was ſufficient."’ Beauclerk replied ſmartly, ‘"Becauſe it happened to kill him."’ And either then, or a very little afterwards, being piqued at Johnſon's triumphant remark, added, ‘"This is what you don't know, and I do."’ There was then a ceſſation of the diſpute; and ſome minutes intervened, during which, dinner and the glaſs went on cheerfully; when Johnſon ſuddenly and abruptly exclaimed, ‘"Mr. Beauclerk, how came you to talk ſo petulantly to me, as 'This is what you don't know, but what I know?' One thing I know which you don't ſeem to know, that you are very uncivil."’ BEAUCLERK. ‘"Becauſe you began by being uncivil, (which you always are)."’ The words in parentheſis were, I believe, not heard by Dr. Johnſon. Here again there was a ceſſation of arms. Johnſon told me, that the reaſon why he waited ſome time at firſt without taking any notice of what Mr. Beauclerk ſaid, was becauſe he was thinking whether he ſhould reſent it. But when he conſidered that there were preſent a young Lord and an eminent traveller, two men of the world with whom he had never dined before, he was apprehenſive that they might think they had a right to take ſuch liberties with him as Beauclerk did, and therefore reſolved he would not let it paſs; adding, that ‘"he would not appear a coward."’ A little while after this, the converſation turned on the violence of Hackman's temper. Johnſon then ſaid, ‘"It was his buſineſs to command his temper, as my friend Mr. Beauclerk ſhould have done ſome time time ago."’ BEAUCLERK. ‘"I ſhould learn of you, Sir."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Sir, you have given me opportunities enough of learning, when I have been in your company. No man loves to be treated with contempt."’ BEAUCLERK. (with a polite inclination towards Johnſon) ‘"Sir, you have known me twenty years, and however I may have treated others, you may be ſure I could never treat you with contempt."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Sir, you have ſaid more than was neceſſary."’ Thus it ended; and Beauclerk's coach not having come for him till very late, Dr. Johnſon and another gentleman ſat with him a long time after the reſt of the company were gone; and he and I dined at Beauclerk's on the Saturday ſe'nnight following.

[289] After this tempeſt had ſubſided, I recollect the following particulars of his converſation:

‘"I am always for getting a boy forward in his learning; for that is a ſure good. I would let him at firſt read any Engliſh book which happens to engage his attention; becauſe you have done a great deal when you have brought him to have entertainment from a book. He'll get better books afterwards."’

‘"Mallet, I believe, never wrote a ſingle line of his projected Life of the Duke of Marlborough. He groped for materials; and thought of it, till he had exhauſted his mind. Thus it ſometimes happens that men entangle themſelves in their own ſchemes."’

‘"To be contradicted, in order to force you to talk, is mighty unpleaſing. You ſhine, indeed; but it is by being ground."’

Of a gentleman who made ſome figure among the Literati of his time, he ſaid, ‘"What eminence he had was by a felicity of manner: he had no more learning than what he could not help."’

On Saturday, April 24, I dined with him at Mr. Beauclerk's, with Sir Joſhua Reynolds, Mr. Jones, (now Sir William,) Mr. Langton, Mr. Steevens, Mr. Paradiſe, and Dr. Higgins. I mentioned that a Mr. Wilkes had attached Garrick to me, as a man who had no friend. JOHNSON. ‘"I believe he is right, Sir. [...].—He had friends, but no friend. Garrick was ſo diffuſed, he had no man to whom he wiſhed to unboſom himſelf. He found people always ready to applaud him, and that always for the ſame thing: ſo he ſaw life with great uniformity."’ I took upon me, for once, to fight with Goliath's weapons, and play the ſophiſt.—‘"Garrick did not need a friend, as he got from every body all he wanted. What is a friend? One who ſupports you and comforts you, while others do not. Friendſhip, you know, Sir, is the cordial drop, 'to make the nauſeous draught of life go down:' but if the draught be not nauſeous, if it be all ſweet, there is no occaſion for that drop."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Many men would not be content to live ſo. I hope I ſhould not. They would wiſh to have an intimate friend, with whom they might compare minds, and cheriſh private virtues."’ One of the company mentioned Lord Cheſterfield, as a man who had no friend. JOHNSON. ‘"There were more materials to make friendſhip in Garrick, had he not been ſo diffuſed."’ BOSWELL. ‘"Garrick was pure gold, but beat out to thin leaf. Lord Cheſterfield was tinſel."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Garrick was a very good man, the cheerfulleſt man of his age; a decent liver in a profeſſion which is ſuppoſed to give indulgence to licentiouſneſs; and a man who gave away, freely, money acquired by himſelf. He began the world with a great [290] hunger for money; the ſon of a half-pay officer, bred in a family whoſe ſtudy was to make four-pence do as much as others made four-pence halfpenny do. But, when he had got money, he was very liberal."’—I preſumed to animadvert on his eulogy on Garrick, in his ‘"Lives of the Poets."’ ‘"You ſay, Sir, his death eclipſed the gaiety of nations."’ JOHNSON. ‘"I could not have ſaid more nor leſs. It is the truth; eclipſed, not extinguiſhed; and his death did eclipſe; it was like a ſtorm."’ BOSWELL. ‘"But why nations? Did his gaiety extend farther than his own nation?"’ JOHNSON. ‘"Why, Sir, ſome exaggeration muſt be allowed. Beſides, nations may be ſaid if we allow the Scotch to be a nation, and to have gaiety, which they have not. You are an exception though. Come, gentlemen, let us candidly admit that there is one Scotchman who is cheerful."’ BEAUCLERK. ‘"But he is a very unna⯑tural Scotchman."’ I, however, continued to think the compliment to Garrick hyperbolically untrue. His acting had ceaſed ſome time before his death; at any rate he had acted in Ireland but a ſhort time, at an early period of his life, and never in Scotland. I objected alſo to what appears an anticlymax of praiſe, when contraſted with the preceding panegyrick—‘"and diminiſhed the publick ſtock of harmleſs pleaſure!"’—‘"Is not harmleſs pleaſure very tame?"’ JOHNSON. ‘"Nay, Sir, harmleſs pleaſure is the higheſt praiſe. Pleaſure is a word of dubious import; pleaſure is in general dan⯑gerous, and pernicious to virtue; to be able therefore to furniſh pleaſure that is harmleſs, pleaſure pure and unalloyed, is as great a power as man can poſſeſs."’ This was, perhaps, as ingenious a defence as could be made; ſtill, however, I was not ſatisfied.

A celebrated wit being mentioned, he ſaid, ‘"One may ſay of him as was ſaid of a French wit, Il n'a de l'eſprit que contre Dieu. I have been ſeveral times in company with him, but never perceived any ſtrong power of wit. He produces a general effect by various means; he has a chearful countenance and a gay voice; beſides his trade is wit. It would be as wild in him to come into company without merriment, as for a highwayman to take the road without his piſtols."’

Talking of the effects of drinking, he ſaid, ‘"Drinking may be practiſed with great prudence; a man who expoſes himſelf when he is intoxicated, has not the art of getting drunk; a ſober man who happens occaſionally to get drunk, readily enough goes into a new company, which a man who has been drinking ſhould never do. Such a man will undertake any thing; he is without ſkill in inebriation. I uſed to ſlink home when I had drunk too much. A man accuſtomed to ſelf-examination will be conſcious when he is [291] drunk, though an habitual drunkard will not be conſcious of it. I knew a phyſician who for twenty years was not ſober; yet in a pamphlet, which he wrote upon fevers, he appealed to Garrick and me for his vindication from a charge of drunkenneſs. A bookſeller (naming him) who got a large fortune by trade, was ſo habitually and equably drunk, that his moſt intimate friends never perceived that he was more ſober at one time than another."’

Talking of celebrated and ſucceſsful irregular practiſers in phyſick; he ſaid, ‘"Taylor was the moſt ignorant man I ever knew; but ſprightly. Ward the dulleſt. Taylor challenged me once to talk Latin with him; (laughing). I quoted ſome of Horace, which he took to be a part of my own ſpeech. He ſaid a few words well enough."’ BEAUCLERK. ‘"I re⯑member, Sir, you ſaid that Taylor was an inſtance how far impudence could carry ignorance."’ Mr. Beauclerk was very entertaining this day, and told us a number of ſhort ſtories in a lively elegant manner, and with that air of the world which has I know not what impreſſive effect, as if there were ſomething more than is expreſſed, or than perhaps we could perfectly under⯑ſtand. As Johnſon and I accompanied Sir Joſhua Reynolds in his coach, Johnſon ſaid, ‘"There is in Beauclerk a predominance over his company, that one does not like. But he is a man who has lived ſo much in the world, that he has a ſhort ſtory on every occaſion; he is always ready to talk and is never exhauſted."’

Johnſon and I paſſed the evening at Miſs Reynolds's, Sir Joſhua's ſiſter. I mentioned that an eminent friend of our's talking of the common remark, that affection deſcends, ſaid that ‘"this was wiſely contrived for the preſervation of mankind; for which it was not ſo neceſſary that there ſhould be affection from children to parents, as from parents to children; nay there would be no harm in that view though children ſhould at a certain age eat their parents."’ JOHNSON. ‘"But, Sir, if this were known generally to be the caſe, parents would not have affection for children."’ BOSWELL. ‘"True, Sir; for it is in expectation of a return that parents are ſo attentive to their children; and I know a very pretty inſtance of a little girl of whom her father was very fond, who once when he was in a melancholy fit, and had gone to bed, perſuaded him to riſe in good-humour, by ſaying, 'My dear papa, pleaſe to get up, and let me help you on with your clothes, that I may learn to do it when you are an old man."’

Soon after this time a little incident occurred, which I will not ſuppreſs, be⯑cauſe I am deſirous that my work ſhould be, as much as is conſiſtent with the ſtricteſt truth, an antidote to the falſe and injurious notions of his character, [292] which have been given by others, and therefore I infuſe every drop of genuine ſweetneſs into my biographical cup.

He came to me in the evening, and brought Sir Joſhua Reynolds. I need ſcarcely ſay, that their converſation, while they ſate by my bedſide, was the moſt pleaſing opiate to pain that could have been adminiſtered.

Johnſon being now better diſpoſed to obtain information concerning Pope than he was laſt year ³, ſent by me to my Lord Marchmont, a preſent of thoſe volumes of his ‘"Lives of the Poets,"’ which were at this time publiſhed, with a requeſt to have permiſſion to wait on him, and his Lordſhip, who had called on him twice, obligingly appointed Saturday, the firſt of May, for receiving us.

On that morning Johnſon came to me from Streatham, and after drinking chocolate, at General Paoli's, in South-Audley-ſtreet, we proceeded to Lord Marchmont's, in Curzon-ſtreet. His Lordſhip met us at the door of his library, and with great politeneſs ſaid to Johnſon, ‘"I am not going to make an encomium upon myſelf, by telling you the high reſpect I have for you, Sir."’ Johnſon was exceedingly courteous, and the interview, which laſted about two hours, during which the Earl communicated his anecdotes of Pope, [293] was as agreeable as I could have wiſhed. When we came out, I ſaid to Johnſon, that conſidering his Lordſhip's civility, I ſhould have been vexed if he had again failed to come. ‘"Sir (ſaid he) I would rather have given twenty pounds than not have come."’ I accompanied him to Streatham, where we dined, and returned to town in the evening.

On Monday, May 3, I dined with him at Mr. Dilly's; I preſſed him this day for his opinion on the paſſage in Parnell, concerning which I had in vain queſtioned him in ſeveral letters, and at length obtained it in due form of law;

This evening I ſet out for Scotland.

He had, before I left London, reſumed the converſation concerning the appearance of a ghoſt at Newcaſtle upon Tyne, which Mr. John Weſley believed, but to which Johnſon did not give credit. I was, however, deſirous to examine the queſtion cloſely, and at the ſame time wiſhed to be made acquainted with Mr. John Weſley; for though I differed from him in ſome points, I admired his various talents, and loved his pious zeal. At my requeſt, therefore, Dr. Johnſon gave me a letter of introduction to him.

Mr. Weſley being in the courſe of his miniſtry at Edinburgh, I preſented this letter to him, and was very politely received. I begged to have it returned to me, which was accordingly done. His ſtate of the evidence as to the ghoſt, did not ſatisfy me.

I did not write to Johnſon, as uſual, upon my return to my family; but tried how he would be affected by my ſilence. Mr. Dilly ſent me a copy of a note which he received from him on the 13th of July, in theſe words:

My readers will not doubt that his ſolicitude about me was very flattering.

[296] On the 22d of July, I wrote to him again; and gave him an account of my laſt interview with my worthy friend, Mr. Edward Dilly, at his brother's houſe at Southill, in Bedfordſhire, where he died ſoon after I parted from him, leaving me a very kind remembrance of his regard.

I informed him that Lord Hailes, who had promiſed to furniſh him with ſome anecdotes for his ‘"Lives of the Poets,"’ had ſent me three inſtances of Prior's borrowing from Gombauld, in ‘"Recueil des Poetes,"’ tome 3. Epigram ‘"To John I owed, 'great obligation,"’ p. 25. ‘"To the Duke of Noailles,"’ p. 32. ‘"Sauntering Jack and idle Joan,"’ p. 25.

My letter was a pretty long one, and contained a variety of particulars; but he, it would ſeem had not attended to it; for his next to me was as follows:

My readers will not be diſpleaſed at being told every ſlight circumſtance of the manner in which Dr. Johnſon contrived to amuſe his ſolitary hours. He ſometimes employed himſelf in chymiſtry, ſometimes in watering and pruning a vine, and ſometimes in ſmall experiments, at which thoſe who may ſmile, ſhould recollect that there are moments which admit of being ſoothed only by trifles ⁵.

On the 20th of September I defended myſelf againſt his ſuſpicion of me, which I did not deſerve; and I added, ‘"Pray let us write frequently. A whim ſtrikes me, that we ſhould each ſend off a ſheet once a week, like a ſtage-coach, whether it be full or not; nay, though it ſhould be empty. The very ſight of your hand-writing would comfort me; and were a ſheet to be thus ſent regularly, we ſhould much oftener convey ſomething, were it only a few kind words."’

My friend Colonel James Stuart, ſecond ſon of the Earl of Bute, who had diſtinguiſhed himſelf as a good officer of the Bedfordſhire militia, had taken a publick-ſpirited reſolution to ſerve his country in its difficulties, by raiſing a regular regiment, and taking the command of it himſelf. This, in the heir of the immenſe property of Wortley, was highly honourable. Having been in Scotland recruiting, he obligingly aſked me to accompany him to Leeds, then the head-quarters of his corps; from thence to London for a ſhort time, and afterwards to other places to which the regiment might be ordered. Such an offer, at a time of the year when I had full leiſure, was very pleaſing; eſpecially as I was to accompany a man of ſterling good ſenſe, information, diſcernment, and conviviality; and was to have a ſecond crop, in one year, of London and Johnſon. Of this I informed my illuſtrious friend, [298] in characteriſtical warm terms, in a letter dated the 30th of September, from Leeds.

On Monday, October 4, I called at his houſe before he was up. He ſent for me to his bedſide, and expreſſed his ſatisfaction at this incidental meeting, with as much vivacity as if he had been in the gaiety of youth. He called briſkly, ‘"Frank, go and get coffee, and let us breakfaſt in ſplendour."’

During this viſit to London I had ſeveral interviews with him, which it is unneceſſary to diſtinguiſh particularly. I conſulted him as to the appoint⯑ment of guardians to my children, in caſe of my death. ‘"Sir, (ſaid he,) do not appoint a number of guardians. When they are many, they truſt one to another, and the buſineſs is neglected. I would adviſe you to chooſe only one; let him be a man of reſpectable character, who, for his own credit, will do what is right; let him be a rich man, ſo that he may be under no temptation to take advantage; and let him be a man of buſineſs, who is uſed to conduct affairs with ability and expertneſs, to whom, therefore, the execu⯑tion of the truſt will not be burthenſome."’

On Sunday, October 10, we dined together at Mr. Strahan's. The con⯑verſation having turned on the prevailing practice of going to the Eaſt-Indies in queſt of wealth;—JOHNSON. ‘"A man had better have ten thouſand pounds at the end of ten years paſſed in England, than twenty thouſand pounds at the end of ten years paſſed in India, becauſe you muſt compute what you give for money; and a man who has lived ten years in India, has given up ten years of ſocial comfort and all thoſe advantages which ariſe from living in England. The ingenious Mr. Brown, diſtinguiſhed by the name of Capability Brown, told me, that he was once at the ſeat of Lord Clive, who had returned from India with great wealth; and that he ſhewed him at the door of his bed-chamber a large cheſt, which he ſaid he had once had full of gold; upon which Brown obſerved, 'I am glad you can bear it ſo near your bed-chamber."’

We talked of the ſtate of the poor in London.—JOHNSON. ‘"Saunders Welch, the Juſtice, who was once High-Conſtable of Holborn, and had the beſt opportunities of knowing the ſtate of the poor, told me, that I under-rated the number, when I computed that twenty a week, that is, above a thouſand a year, died of hunger; not abſolutely of immediate hunger, but of the waſting and other diſeaſes which are the conſequences of hunger. This hap⯑pens only in ſo large a place as London, where people are not known. What we are told about the great ſums got by begging is not true: the trade is overſtocked. And, you may depend upon it, there are many who [299] cannot get work. A particular kind of manufacture fails. Thoſe who have been uſed to work at it can, for ſome time, work at nothing elſe. You meet a man begging; you charge him with idleneſs: he ſays, 'I am willing to labour. Will you give me work?'—'I cannot.'—'Why then you have no right to charge me with idleneſs."’

We left Mr. Strahan's at ſeven, as Johnſon had ſaid he intended to go to evening prayers. As we walked along, he complained of a little gout in his toe, and ſaid, ‘"I ſhan't go to prayers to-night; I ſhall go to-morrow. When⯑ever I miſs church on a Sunday, I reſolve to go another day. But I do not always do it."’ This was a fair exhibition of that vibration between pious reſolutions and indolence, which many of us have too often experienced.

I went home with him, and we had a long quiet converſation.

I read him a letter from Dr. Hugh Blair, concerning Pope, (in writing whoſe life he was now employed,) which I ſhall inſert as a literary curioſity ⁶.

JOHNSON. ‘"Depend upon it, Sir, this is too ſtrongly ſtated. Pope may have had from Bolingbroke the philoſophick ſtamina of his Eſſay: and admitting this to be true, Lord Bathurſt did not intentionally falſify. But the thing is not true in the latitude that Blair ſeems to imagine; we are ſure that the poetical imagery, which makes a great part of the poem, was Pope's own. It is amazing, Sir, what deviations there are from preciſe truth, in the account which is given of almoſt every thing. I told Mrs. Thrale, 'You have ſo little anxiety about truth, that you never tax your memory with the exact thing.' Now what is the uſe of the memory to truth, [301] if one is careleſs of exactneſs? Lord Hailes's 'Annals of Scotland' are very exact; but they contain mere dry particulars. They are to be conſidered as a Dictionary. You know ſuch things are there; and may be looked at when you pleaſe. Robertſon paints; but the misfortune is, you are ſure he does not know the people whom he paints: ſo you cannot ſuppoſe a likeneſs. Characters ſhould never be given by an hiſtorian unleſs he knew the people whom he deſcribes, or copies from thoſe who knew them."’

BOSWELL. ‘"Why, Sir, do people play this trick which I obſerve now, when I look at your grate, putting the ſhovel againſt it to make the fire burn?"’ JOHNSON. ‘"They play the trick, but it does not make the fire burn. There is a better (ſetting the poker perpendicularly up at right angles with the grate). In days of ſuperſtition they thought, as it made a croſs with the bars, it would drive away the witch."’

BOSWELL. ‘"By aſſociating with you, Sir, I am always getting an acceſſion of wiſdom. But perhaps a man, after knowing his own character—the limited ſtrength of his own mind, ſhould not be deſirous of having too much wiſdom, conſidering, quid valeant humeri, how little he can carry."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Sir, be as wiſe as you can; let a man be aliis laetus, ſapiens ſibi: 'Though pleas'd to ſee the dolphins play, 'I mind my compaſs and my way.' You may be wiſe in your ſtudy in the morning, and gay in company at a tavern in the evening. Every man is to take care of his own wiſdom and his own virtue, without minding too much what others think."’

He ſaid, ‘"Dodſley firſt mentioned to me the ſcheme of an Engliſh Dictionary; but I had long thought of it."’ BOSWELL. ‘"You did not know what you was undertaking."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Yes, Sir, I knew very well what I was undertaking—and very well how to do it—and have done it very well."’ BOSWELL. ‘"An excellent climax! and it has availed you. In your Preface you ſay, 'What would it avail me in this gloom of ſolitude?' You have been agreeably miſtaken."’

In his Life of Milton he obſerves, ‘"I cannot but remark a kind of reſpect, perhaps unconſciouſly, paid to this great man by his biographers: every houſe in which he reſided is hiſtorically mentioned, as if it were an injury to neglect naming any place that he honoured by his preſence."’ I had, before I read this obſervation, been deſirous of ſhewing that reſpect to Johnſon, by various inquiries. Finding him this evening in a very good humour, I prevailed on [302] him to give me an exact liſt of his places of reſidence, ſince he entered the metropolis as an authour, which I ſubjoin in a note ⁷.

I mentioned to him a diſpute between a friend of mine and his lady, con⯑cerning conjugal infidelity, which my friend had maintained was by no means ſo bad in the huſband, as in the wife. JOHNSON. ‘"Your friend was in the right, Sir. Between a man and his Maker it is a different queſtion; but between a man and his wife, a huſband's infidelity is nothing. They are connected by children, by fortune, by ſerious conſiderations of community. Wiſe married women don't trouble themſelves about infidelity in their huſ⯑bands."’ BOSWELL. ‘"To be ſure there is a great difference between the offence of infidelity in a man and that of his wife."’ JOHNSON. ‘"The difference is boundleſs. The man impoſes no baſtards upon his wife."’

Here it may be queſtioned whether Johnſon was entirely in the right. I ſup⯑poſe it will not be controverted that the difference in the degree of criminality is very great, on account of conſequences: but ſtill it may be maintained, that, independent of moral obligation, infidelity is by no means a light offence in a huſband; becauſe it muſt hurt a delicate attachment, in which a mutual con⯑ſtancy is implied, with ſuch refined ſentiments as Maſſinger has exhibited in his play of ‘"The Picture."’ Johnſon probably at another time would have admitted this opinion. And let it be kept in remembrance, that he was very careful not to give any encouragement to irregular conduct. A gentleman, not adverting to the diſtinction made by him upon this ſub⯑ject, ſuppoſed a caſe of ſingular perverſeneſs in a wife, and heedleſsly ſaid, ‘"That then he thought a huſband might do as he pleaſed with a [303] ſafe conſcience."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Nay, Sir, this is wild indeed (ſmiling); you muſt conſider that fornication is a crime in a ſingle man; and you cannot have more liberty by being married."’

He this evening expreſſed himſelf ſtrongly againſt the Roman Catholicks; obſerving, ‘"In every thing in which they differ from us they are wrong."’ He was even againſt the invocation of Saints; in ſhort, he was in the humour of oppoſition.

Having regretted to him that I had learnt little Greek, as is too generally the caſe in Scotland, that I had for a long time hardly applied at all to the ſtudy of that noble language, and that I was deſirous of being told by him what method to follow; he recommended to me as eaſy helps, Sylvanus's ‘"Firſt Book of the Iliad;"’ Dawſon's ‘"Lexicon to the Greek New Teſta⯑ment;"’ and ‘"Heſiod,"’ with Paſoris Lexicon at the end of it.

On Tueſday, October 12, I dined with him at Mr. Ramſay's, with Lord Newhaven, and ſome other company, none of whom I recollect, but a beautiful Miſs Graham, a relation of his Lordſhip's, who aſked Dr. Johnſon to hob or nob with her. He was flattered by ſuch pleaſing attention, and politely told her, he never drank wine; but if ſhe would drink a glaſs of water, he was much at her ſervice. She accepted. ‘"Oho, Sir! (ſaid Lord Newhaven) you are caught."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Nay, I do not ſee how I am caught; but if I am caught I don't want to get free again. If I am caught, I hope to be kept."’ Then when the two glaſſes of water were brought, ſmiling placidly to the young lady, ‘"Madam, let us reciprocate."’

Lord Newhaven and Johnſon carried on an argument for ſome time, con⯑cerning the Middleſex election. Johnſon ſaid, ‘"Parliament may be conſidered as bound by law, as a man is bound where there is nobody to tie the knot. As it is clear that the Houſe of Commons may expel, and expel again and again, why not allow of the power to incapacitate for that parliament, rather than have a perpetual conteſt kept up between parliament and the people."’ Lord Newhaven took the oppoſite ſide, but reſpectfully ſaid, ‘"I ſpeak with great deference to you, Dr. Johnſon; I ſpeak to be inſtructed."’ This had its full effect upon my friend. He bowed his head almoſt as low as the table, to a complimenting nobleman; and called out, ‘"My Lord, my Lord, I do not deſire all this ceremony; let us tell our minds to one another quietly."’ After the debate was over, he ſaid, ‘"I have got lights on the ſubject to-day, which I had not before."’ This was a great deal from him, eſpecially as he had written a pamphlet upon it.

[304] He obſerved, ‘"The Houſe of Commons was originally not a privilege of the people, but a check for the Crown on the Houſe of Lords. I remember Henry the Eighth, wanted them to do ſomething; they heſitated in the morning, but did it in the afternoon. He told them, 'It is well you did, or half your heads ſhould have been upon Temple-bar.' But the Houſe of Commons is now no longer under the power of the crown, and therefore muſt be bribed."’ He added, ‘"I have no delight in talking of publick affairs."’

Of his fellow-collegian, the celebrated Mr. George Whitefield, he ſaid, ‘"Whitefield never drew as much attention as a mountebank does; he did not draw attention by doing better than others, but by doing what was ſtrange. Were Aſtley to preach a ſermon ſtanding upon his head on a horſe's back, he would collect a multitude to hear him; but no wiſe man would ſay he had made a better ſermon for that. I never treated Whitefield's miniſtry with contempt; I believe he did good. He had devoted himſelf to the lower claſſes of mankind, and among them he was of uſe. But when familiarity and noiſe claim the praiſe due to knowledge, art, and elegance, we muſt beat down ſuch pretenſions."’

What I have preſerved of his converſation during the remainder of my ſtay in London at this time, is only what follows: I told him that when I objected to keeping company with a notorious infidel, a celebrated friend of our's ſaid to me, ‘"I do not think that men who live laxly in the world, as you and I do, can with propriety aſſume ſuch an authority. Dr. Johnſon may, who is uniformly exemplary in his conduct. But it is not very conſiſtent to ſhun an infidel to-day, and get drunk to-morrow."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Nay, Sir, this is ſad reaſoning. Becauſe a man cannot be right in all things, is he to be right in nothing? Becauſe a man ſometimes gets drunk, is he therefore to ſteal? This doctrine would very ſoon bring a man to the gallows.’

‘"After all, however, it is a difficult queſtion how far ſincere Chriſtians ſhould aſſociate with the avowed enemies of religion; for in the firſt place, almoſt every man's mind may be more or leſ▪ 'corrupted by evil communi⯑cations;' ſecondly, the world may very naturally ſuppoſe that they are not really in earneſt in religion, who can eaſily bear its opponents; and thirdly, if the proſane find themſelves quite well received by the pious, one of the checks upon an open declaration of their inſidelity, and one of the probable chances of obliging them ſeriouſly to reflect, which their being ſhunned would do, is removed."’

[305] He, I know not why, ſhewed upon all occaſions an averſion to go to Ireland, where I propoſed to him that we ſhould make a tour. JOHNSON. ‘"It is the laſt place where I ſhould wiſh to travel."’ BOSWELL. ‘"Should you not like to ſee Dublin, Sir?"’ JOHNSON. ‘"No, Sir, Dublin is only a worſe capital."’ BOSWELL. ‘"Is not the Giant's-Cauſeway worth ſeeing?"’ JOHNSON. ‘"Worth ſeeing, yes; but not worth going to ſee."’

Of an acquaintance of ours, whoſe manners and every thing about him, though expenſive, were coarſe, he ſaid, ‘"Sir, you ſee in him vulgar proſperity."’

A foreign miniſter of no very high talents, who had been in his company for a conſiderable time quite overlooked, happened luckily to mention that he had read ſome of his ‘"Rambler"’ in Italian, and admired it much. This pleaſed him greatly; he obſerved, that the title had been tranſlated, Il Genio errante, though I have been told it was rendered more ludicrouſly, Il Vaga⯑bondo; and finding that this miniſter gave ſuch a proof of his taſte, he was all attention to him, and on the firſt remark which he made, however ſimple, exclaimed, ‘"The Ambaſſadour ſays well—His Excellency obſerves—"’ And then he expanded and enriched the little that had been ſaid in ſo ſtrong a manner, that it appeared ſomething of conſequence. This was exceedingly entertaining to the company who were preſent, and many a time afterwards it furniſhed a pleaſant topick of merriment: ‘"The Ambaſſadour ſays well,"’ became a laughable term of applauſe, when no mighty matter had been expreſſed.

I left London on Monday, October 18, and accompanied Colonel Stuart to Cheſter, where his regiment was to lye for ſome time.

[311] On November 22, and December 21, I wrote to him from Edinburgh, giving a very favourable report of the family of Miſs Doxy's lover;—that after a good deal of inquiry I had diſcovered the ſiſter of Mr. Francis Stewart, one of his amanuenſes when writing his Dictionary;—that I had, as deſired by him, paid her a guinea for an old pocket-book of her brother's which he had retained; and that the good woman, who was in very moderate circum⯑ſtances, but contented and placid, wondered at his ſcrupulous and liberal honeſty, and received the guinea as if ſent her by Providence.—That I had repeatedly begged of him to keep his promiſe to ſend me his letter to Lord Cheſterfield, and that this memento, like Delenda eſt Carthago, muſt be in every letter that I ſhould write to him, till I had obtained my object.

In 1780 the world was kept in impatience for the completion of his ‘"Lives of the Poets,"’ upon which he was employed ſo far as his indolence allowed him to labour.

I wrote to him on January 1, and March 13, ſending him my notes of Lord Marchmont's information concerning Pope;—complaining that I had not heard from him for almoſt four months, though he was two letters in my debt;—that I had ſuffered again from melancholy;—hoping that he had been in ſo much better company, (the Poets,) that he had not time to think of his diſtant friends; for if that were the caſe, I ſhould have ſome recompence for my uneaſineſs;—that the ſtate of my affairs did not admit of my coming to London this year;—and, begging he would return me Goldſmith's two poems, with his lines marked.

His friend Dr. Lawrence having now ſuffered the greateſt affliction to which a man is liable, and which Johnſon himſelf had felt in the moſt ſevere manner; Johnſon wrote to him in an admirable ſtrain of ſympathy and pious conſolation.

Mrs. Thrale being now at Bath with her huſband, the correſpondence between Johnſon and her was carried on briſkly. I ſhall preſent my readers with one of her original letters to him at this time, which will amuſe them probably more than thoſe well-written but ſtudied epiſtles which ſhe has inſerted [314] in her collection, becauſe it exhibits the eaſy vivacity of their literary inter⯑courſe. It is alſo of value as a key to Johnſon's anſwer, which ſhe has printed by itſelf, and of which I ſhall ſubjoin extracts.

On the 2d of May I wrote to him, and requeſted that we might have another meeting ſomewhere in the North of England, in the autumn of this year.

From Mr. Langton I received ſoon after this time a letter, of which I extract a paſſage, relative at once to Mr. Beauclerk and Dr. Johnſon.

While Johnſon was thus engaged in preparing a delightful literary entertainment for the world, the tranquillity of the metropolis of Great-Britain was unexpectedly diſturbed, by the moſt horrid ſeries of outrage that ever diſgraced a civilized country. A relaxation of ſome of the ſevere penal proviſions againſt our fellow ſubjects of the Catholick communion had been granted by the legiſlature, with an oppoſition ſo inconſiderable, that the genuine mildneſs of Chriſtianity, united with liberal policy, ſeemed to have become general in this iſland. But a dark and malignant ſpirit of perſecution ſoon ſhewed itſelf, in an unworthy petition for the repeal of the wiſe and humane ſtatute. That petition was brought forward by a mob, with the evident purpoſe of intimidation, and was juſtly rejected. But the attempt was accompanied and followed by ſuch daring violence as is unexampled in hiſtory. Of this extraordinary tumult, Dr. Johnſon has given the following conciſe, lively, and juſt account in his ‘"Letters to Mrs. Thrale ⁶:"’

‘"On Friday, the good Proteſtants met in St. George's-Fields, at the ſummons of Lord George Gordon, and marching to Weſtminſter, inſulted the Lords and Commons, who all bore it with great tameneſs. At night the outrages began by the demolition of the maſs-houſe by Lincoln's-Inn."’

‘"An exact journal of a week's defiance of government I cannot give you. On Monday, Mr. Strahan, who had been inſulted, ſpoke to Lord Mansfield, who had I think been inſulted too, of the licentiouſneſs of the populace; and his Lordſhip treated it as a very ſlight irregularity. On Tueſday night they pulled down Fielding's houſe, and burnt his goods in the ſtreet. They had [318] gutted on Monday Sir George Savile's houſe, but the building was ſaved. On Tueſday evening, leaving Fielding's ruins, they went to Newgate to demand their companions who had been ſeized demoliſhing the chapel. The keeper could not releaſe them but by the Mayor's permiſſion, which he went to aſk; at his return he found all the priſoners releaſed, and Newgate in a blaze. They then went to Bloomſbury, and faſtened upon Lord Mansfield's houſe, which they pulled down; and as for his goods, they totally burnt them. They have ſince gone to Caen-wood, but a guard was there before them. They plundered ſome Papiſts, I think, and burnt a maſs-houſe in Moorfields the ſame night."’

‘"On Wedneſday I walked with Dr. Scot to look at Newgate, and found it in ruins, with the fire yet glowing. As I went by, the Proteſtants were plundering the Seſſions-houſe at the Old Bailey. There were not, I believe, a hundred; but they did their work at leiſure, in full ſecurity, without ſenti⯑nels, without trepidation, as men lawfully employed, in full day. Such is the cowardice of a commercial place. On Wedneſday they broke open the Fleet, and the King's-bench, and the Marſhalſea, and Wood-ſtreet Compter, and Clerkenwell Bridewell, and releaſed all the priſoners."’

‘"At night they ſet fire to the Fleet, and to the King's-bench, and I know not how many other places; and one might ſee the glare of conflagra⯑tion fill the ſky from many parts. The ſight was dreadful. Some people were threatened: Mr. Strahan adviſed me to take care of myſelf. Such a time of terrour you have been happy in not ſeeing."’

‘"The King ſaid in council, 'That the magiſtrates had not done their duty, but that he would do his own;' and a proclamation was publiſhed, directing us to keep our ſervants within doors, as the peace was now to be preſerved by force. The ſoldiers were ſent out to different parts, and the town is now at quiet."’

‘"The ſoldiers are ſtationed ſo as to be every where within call; there is no longer any body of rioters, and the individuals are haunted to their holes, and led to priſon; Lord George was laſt night ſent to the Tower. Mr. John Wilkes was this day in my neighbourhood, to ſeize the publiſhes of a ſeditious paper."’

‘"Several chapels have been deſtroyed, and ſeveral inoffenſive Papiſts have been plundered; but the high ſport was to burn the gaols. This was a good rabble trick. The debtors and the criminals were all ſet at liberty; but of the criminals, as has always happened, many are already re-taken; and two [319] pirates have ſurrendered themſelves, and it is expected that they will be pardoned."’

‘"Government now acts again with its proper force; and we are all again under the protection of the King and the law. I thought that it would be agree⯑able to you and my maſter to have my teſtimony to the publick ſecurity; and that you would ſleep more quietly when I told you that you are ſafe."’

‘"There has, indeed, been an univerſal panick, from which the King was the firſt that recovered. Without the concurrence of his miniſters, or the aſſiſtance of the civil magiſtrate, he put the ſoldiers in motion, and ſaved the town from calamities, ſuch as a rabble's government muſt naturally produce."’

‘"The publick has eſcaped a very heavy calamity. The rioters attempted the Bank on Wedneſday night, but in no great number; and like other thieves, with no great reſolution. Jack Wilkes headed the party that drove them away. It is agreed, that if they had ſeized the Bank on Tueſday, at the height of the panick, when no reſiſtance had been prepared, they might have carried irrecoverably away whatever they had found. Jack who was always zealous for order and decency, declares, that if he be truſted with power, he will not leave a rioter alive. There is, however, now no longer any need of heroiſm or bloodſhed; no blue ribband is any longer worn."’

Such was the end of this miſerable ſedition, from which London was delivered by the magnanimity of the Sovereign himſelf. Whatever ſome may maintain, I am ſatisfied that there was no combination or plan, either domeſtick or foreign; but that the miſchief ſpread by a gradual contagion of frenzy, augmented by the quantities of fermented liquors, of which the deluded populace poſſeſſed themſelves in the courſe of their depredations.

I ſhould think myſelf very much to blame, did I here neglect to do juſtice to my eſteemed friend Mr. Akerman, the keeper of Newgate, who has long diſcharged a very important truſt with an uniform intrepid firmneſs, and at the ſame time a tenderneſs and a liberal charity, which entitle him to be recorded with diſtinguiſhed honour.

Upon this occaſion, from the timidity and negligence of magiſtracy on the one hand, and the almoſt incredible exertions of the mob on the other, the firſt priſon of this great country was laid open, and the priſoners ſet free; but that Mr. Akerman, whoſe houſe was burnt, would have prevented all this, had proper aid been ſent to him in due time, there can be no doubt.

[320] Many years ago, a fire broke out in the brick part which was built as an addition to the old gaol of Newgate. The priſoners were in conſternation and tumult, calling out, ‘"We ſhall be burnt—we ſhall be burnt! down with the gate—down with the gate!"’ Mr. Akerman haſtened to them, ſhewed himſelf at the gate, and having, after ſome confuſed vociferation of ‘"Hear him—hear him!"’ obtained a ſilent attention, he then calmly told them, that the gate muſt not go down; that they were under his care, and that they ſhould not be permitted to eſcape: but that he could aſſure them, they need not be afraid of being burnt, for that the fire was not in the priſon, properly ſo called, which was ſtrongly built with ſtone; and that if they would engage to be quiet, he himſelf would come in to them, and conduct them to the further end of the building, and would not go out till they gave him leave. To this propoſal they agreed; upon which Mr. Akerman, having firſt made them fall back from the gate, went in, and with a determined reſolution ordered the outer turnkey upon no account to open the gate, even though the priſoners (though he truſted they would not) ſhould break their word, and by force bring himſelf to order it. ‘"Never mind me, (ſaid he,) ſhould that happen."’ The priſoners peaceably followed him, while he conducted them through paſſages, of which he had the keys, to the extremity of the gaol, which was moſt diſtant from the fire. Having, by this very judicious conduct, fully ſatisfied them that there was no immediate riſk, if any at all, he then addreſſed them thus: ‘"Gentlemen, you are now convinced that I told you true. I have no doubt that the engines will ſoon extinguiſh this fire: if they ſhould not, a ſufficient guard will come, and you ſhall all be taken out and lodged in the Compters. I aſſure you, upon my word and honour, that I have not a farthing inſured. I have left my houſe that I might take care of you. I will keep my promiſe, and ſtay with you, if you inſiſt upon it: but if you will allow me to go out and look after my family and property, I will be obliged to you."’ Struck with his behaviour, they called out, ‘"Maſter Akerman, you have done bravely; it was very kind in you: by all means go and take care of your own concerns."’ He did ſo accordingly, while they remained and were all preſerved.

Johnſon has been heard to relate the ſubſtance of this ſtory with high praiſe, in which he was joined by Mr. Burke. My illuſtrious friend, ſpeak⯑ing of Mr. Akerman's kindneſs to his priſoners, pronounced this eulogy upon his character:—‘"He who has long had conſtantly in his view the worſt of mankind, and is yet eminent for the humanity of his diſpoſition, [321] muſt have had it originally in a great degree, and continued to cultivate it very carefully."’

In the courſe of this month my brother David waited upon Dr. Johnſon, with the following letter of introduction, which I had taken care ſhould be lying ready on his arrival in London.

Johnſon received him very politely, and has thus mentioned him in a letter to Mrs. Thrale ⁷: ‘"I have had with me a brother of Boſwell's, a Spaniſh merchant ⁸, whom the war has driven from his reſidence at Valencia; he is gone to ſee his friends, and will find Scotland but a ſorry place after twelve years reſidence in a happier climate. He is a very agreeable man, and ſpeaks no Scotch."’

This year he wrote to a young clergyman in the country, the following very excellent letter, which contains valuable advice to Divines in general:

My next letters to him were of dates Auguſt 24, September 6, and October 1, and from them I extract the following paſſages:

Mr. Thrale had now another conteſt for the repreſentation in parliament of the borough of Southwark, and Johnſon kindly lent him his aſſiſtance, by writing advertiſements and letters for him. I ſhall inſert one, as a ſpecimen: *

On his birth-day, Johnſon has this note, ‘"I am now beginning the ſeventy-ſecond year of my life, with more ſtrength of body, and greater vigour of mind, than I think is common at that age."’ But ſtill he complains of ſleepleſs nights and idle days, and forgetfulneſs, or neglect of reſolutions. He thus pathetically expreſſes himſelf, ‘"Surely I ſhall not ſpend my whole life with my own total diſapprobation ⁷."’

Mr. Macbean, whom I have mentioned more than once, as one of Johnſon's humble friends, a deſerving but unfortunate man, being now oppreſſed by age and poverty, Johnſon ſolicited the Lord Chancellor Thurlow, to have him admitted into the Charter-houſe. I take the liberty to inſert his Lord⯑ſhip's anſwer, as I am eager to embrace every occaſion of augmenting the reſpectable notion which ſhould ever be entertained of my illuſtrious friend:

[329] Being diſappointed in my hopes of meeting Johnſon this year, ſo that I could hear none of his admirable ſayings, I ſhall compenſate for this want by inſerting a collection of them, for which I am indebted to my worthy friend Mr. Langton, whoſe kind communications have been ſeparately interwoven in many parts of this work. A very few articles of this collection were committed to writing by himſelf, he not having that habit; which he regrets, and which thoſe who know the numerous opportunities he had of gathering the rich fruits of Johnſonian wit and wiſdom, muſt ever regret. I however found, in converſations with him, that a good ſtore of Johnſoniana was treaſured in his mind; and I compared it to Herculaneum, or ſome old Roman field, which, when dug, fully rewards the labour employed. The authenticity of every article is unqueſtionable. For the expreſſion, I, who wrote them down in his preſence, am partly anſwerable.

This year the Reverend Dr. Franklin having publiſhed a tranſlation of ‘"Lucian,"’ inſcribed to him the Demonax thus:

Though upon a particular compariſon of Demonax and Johnſon, there does not ſeem to be a great deal of ſimilarity between them; this Dedication is a juſt compliment from the general character given by Lucian of the ancient Sage, ‘" [...], the beſt philoſopher whom I have ever ſeen or known."’

In 1781 Johnſon at laſt completed his ‘"Lives of the Poets,"’ of which he gives this account: ‘"Sometime in March I finiſhed the 'Lives of the Poets,' which I wrote in my uſual way, dilatorily and haſtily, unwilling to work, and working with vigour and haſte ²."’ In a memorandum previous to this, he ſays of them: ‘"Written I hope, in ſuch a manner as may tend to the pro⯑motion of piety ³."’

This is the work which of all Dr. Johnſon's writings will perhaps be read moſt generally, and with moſt pleaſure. Philology and biography were his favourite purſuits, and thoſe who lived moſt in intimacy with him, heard him upon all occaſions, when there was a proper opportunity, take delight in expatiating upon the various merits of the Engliſh Poets; upon the niceties of their characters, and the events of their progreſs through the world which they contributed to illuminate. His mind was ſo full of that kind of information, and it was ſo well arranged in his memory, that in performing what he had undertaken in this way, he had little more to do than to put his thoughts upon paper, exhibiting firſt each Poet's life, and then ſubjoining a critical examina⯑tion of his genius and works. But when he began to write, the ſubject ſwelled in ſuch a manner, that inſtead of prefaces to each poet of no more than a few pages as he had originally intended ⁴, he produced an ample, rich, [345] and moſt entertaining view of them in every reſpect. In this he reſembled Quintilian, who tells us, that in the compoſition of his Inſtitutions of Oratory, ‘"Latiùs ſe tamen aperiente materiâ, plus quàm imponebatur oneris ſponte ſuſcepi."’ The bookſellers juſtly ſenſible of the great additional value of the copy-right, preſented him with another hundred pounds, over and above two hundred, for which his agreement was to furniſh ſuch prefaces as he thought fit.

This was, however, but a ſmall recompence for ſuch a collection of biography, and ſuch principles and illuſtrations of criticiſm as, if digeſted and arranged in one ſyſtem by ſome modern Ariſtotle or Longinus, might form a code upon that ſubject ſuch as no other nation can ſhew. As he was ſo good as to make me a preſent of the greateſt part of the original, and indeed only manuſcript of this admirable work, I have an opportunity of obſerving with wonder the correctneſs with which he rapidly ſtruck off ſuch glowing compoſition. He may be aſſimilated to the Lady in Waller, who could impreſs with ‘"Love at firſt ſight:"’

That he, however, had a good deal of trouble and ſome anxiety in carrying on the work, we ſee from a ſeries of his notes to Mr. Nichols, the printer ², [346] whoſe variety of literary inquiry and obliging diſpoſition, rendered him very uſeful to Johnſon. Mr. Steevens appears, from the papers in my poſſeſſion, to have ſupplied him with ſome anecdotes and quotations; and I obſerve the fair hand of Mrs. Thrale as one of his copyiſts of ſelect paſſages.

It is not my intention to dwell upon each of Johnſon's ‘"Lives of the Poets,"’ or attempt an analyſis of their merits, which were I able to do it, would take up too much room in this work; yet I ſhall make a few obſerva⯑tions upon ſome of them, and inſert a few various readings.

The Life of COWLEY he himſelf conſidered as the beſt of the whole, on account of the diſſertation which it contains on the Metaphyſical Poets. Dryden, whoſe critical abilities were equal to his poetical, had mentioned them in one of his excellent prefatory diſcourſes to his Plays, but had barely mentioned them. Johnſon has exhibited them at large, with ſuch happy illuſtration from their writings, and in ſo luminous a manner, that indeed he may be allowed the full merit of novelty, to have diſcovered to us as it were, a new planet in the poetical hemiſphere.

It is remarked by Johnſon, in conſidering the works of a poet ³, that ‘"amendments are ſeldom made without ſome token of a rent;"’ but I do not find that this is applicable to proſe. We ſhall ſee that though his amendments in this work are for the better, there is nothing of the pannus aſſutus; the texture is uniform, and indeed what has been there at firſt, is very ſeldom unfit to have remained.

In the Life of WALLER, Johnſon gives a diſtinct and animated narrative of publick affairs in that variegated period, with ſtrong yet nice touches of character, and having a fair opportunity to diſplay his political principles, does it with an unqualified manly confidence, and ſatisfies his readers how nobly he might have executed a Tory hiſtory of his country.

So eaſy is his ſtyle in theſe Lives, that I do not recollect more than three uncommon or learned words; one, when giving an account of the approach of Waller's mortal diſeaſe, he ſays, ‘"he found his legs grow tumid;"’ by uſing the expreſſion his legs ſwelled, he would have avoided this; and there would have been no impropriety in its being followed by the intereſting queſtion to his phyſician, ‘"What that ſwelling meant?"’ Another, when he mentions that Pope had emitted propoſals; when publiſhed or iſſued, would have been more readily underſtood; and a third, when he calls Orrery and Dr. Delany, writers both undoubtedly veracious; when true, honeſt, or faithful, might have been uſed. Yet, it muſt be owned, that none of theſe are hard or too big words; that cuſtom would make them ſeem as eaſy as any others; and that a language is richer and capable of more beauty of expreſſion, by having a greater variety of ſynonimes.

His diſſertation upon the unfitneſs of poetry for the aweful ſubjects of our holy religion, though I do not entirely agree with him, has all the merit of originality, with uncommon force of reaſoning.

Againſt his Life of MILTON, the hounds of Whiggiſm have opened in full cry. But of Milton's great excellence as a poet, where ſhall we find ſuch a blazon as by the hand of Johnſon? I ſhall ſelect only the following paſſage concerning ‘"Paradiſe Loſt:"’

‘"Fancy can hardly forbear to conjecture with what temper Milton ſur⯑veyed the ſilent progreſs of his work, and marked his reputation ſtealing its way in a kind of ſubterraneous current, through fear and ſilence. I cannot but conceive him calm and confident, little diſappointed, not at all dejected, relying on his own merit with ſteady conſciouſneſs, and waiting without impa⯑tience, the viciſſitudes of opinion, and the impartiality of a future generation."’

Indeed even Dr. Towers, who may be conſidered as one of the warmeſt zealots of The Revolution Society itſelf, allows, that ‘"Johnſon has ſpoken in the higheſt terms of the abilities of that great poet, and has beſtowed on his principal poetical compoſitions, the moſt honourable encomiums ⁵."’

[349] That a man, who venerated the Church and Monarchy as Johnſon did, ſhould ſpeak with a juſt abhorrence of Milton as a politician, or rather as a daring foe to good polity, was ſurely to be expected; and to thoſe who cenſure him, I would recommend his commentary on Milton's celebrated complaint of his ſituation, when by the lenity of Charles the Second, ‘"A lenity of which (as Johnſon well obſerves) the world has had perhaps no other example; he, who had written in juſtification of the murder of his Sovereign, was ſafe under an Act of Oblivion."’ No ſooner is he ſafe than he finds himſelf in danger, fallen on evil days and evil tongues, and with darkneſs and with danger compaſs'd round. This darkneſs, had his eyes been better employed, had undoubtedly deſerved compaſſion; but to add the mention of danger was ungrateful and unjuſt. He was fallen, indeed, on evil days; the time was come in which regicides could no longer boaſt their wickedneſs. But of evil tongues to complain, required impudence at leaſt equal to his other powers: Milton, whoſe warmeſt advocates muſt allow, ‘"that he never ſpared any aſperity of reproach, or brutality of inſolence."’

I have, indeed, often wondered how Milton, ‘"an acrimonious and ſurly Re⯑publican,"’ a man ‘"who in his domeſtick relations was ſo ſevere and arbitrary,"’ and whoſe head was filled with the hardeſt and moſt diſmal tenets of Calviniſm, ſhould have been ſuch a poet; ſhould not only have written with ſublimity, but with beauty, and even gayety; ſhould have exquiſitely painted the ſweeteſt ſenſations of which our nature is capable; imaged the delicate raptures of connubial love; nay, ſeemed to be animated with all the ſpirit of revelry. It is a proof that in the human mind the departments of judgement and imagination, perception and temper, may ſometimes be divided by ſtrong partitions; and that the light and ſhade in the ſame character may be kept ſo diſtinct as never to be blended.

In the Life of Milton, Johnſon took occaſion to maintain his own and the general opinion of the excellence of rhyme over blank verſe, in Engliſh poetry, and quotes this appoſite illuſtration of it by ‘"an ingenious critick,"’ that it ſeems to be verſe only to the eye ⁶. The gentleman whom he thus cha⯑racteriſes is (as he told Mr. Seward) Mr. Lock, of Norbury Park, in Surrey, whoſe knowledge and taſte in the fine arts is univerſally celebrated; with [350] whoſe elegance of manners the writer of the preſent work has felt himſelf much impreſſed, and to whoſe virtues a common friend, who has known him long, and is not much addicted to flattery, gives the higheſt teſtimony.

I could, with pleaſure, expatiate upon the maſterly execution of the Life of DRYDEN, which we have ſeen⁷ was one of Johnſon's literary projects at an early period, and which it is remarkable, that after deſiſting from it, from a ſuppoſed ſcantineſs of materials, he ſhould, at an advanced age, have performed ſo amply.

His defence of that great poet againſt the illiberal attacks upon him, as if his embracing the Roman Catholick communion had been a time-ſerving meaſure, is a piece of reaſoning at once able and candid. Indeed, Dryden himſelf, in his ‘"Hind and Panther,"’ hath given ſuch a picture of his mind, that they who know the anxiety for repoſe as to the aweful ſubject of our ſtate beyond the grave, though they may think his opinion ill-founded, muſt think charitably of his ſentiment.

In drawing Dryden's character, Johnſon has given, though I ſuppoſe unintentionally, ſome touches of his own. Thus, ‘"The power that pre⯑dominated in his intellectual operations was rather ſtrong reaſon than quick ſenſibility. Upon all occaſions that were preſented, he ſtudied rather than felt; and produced ſentiments not ſuch as Nature enforces, but meditation ſupplies. With the ſimple and elemental paſſions as they ſpring ſeparate in the mind, he ſeems not much acquainted. He is, therefore, with all his variety of excellence, not often pathetick; and had ſo little ſenſibility of the power of effuſions purely natural, that he did not eſteem them in others."’—It may indeed be obſerved, that in all the numerous writings of Johnſon, whether in proſe or verſe, and even in his tragedy, of which the ſubject is the diſtreſs of an unfortunate Princeſs, there is not a ſingle paſſage that ever drew a tear.

[352] The Life of POPE was written by Johnſon con amore, both from the early poſſeſſion which that writer had taken of his mind▪ and from the pleaſure which he muſt have felt, in for ever ſilencing all attempts to leſſen his poetical fame, by demonſtrating his excellence, and pronouncing, a triumphant apotheoſis.—‘"After all this, it is ſurely ſuperfluous to anſwer the queſtion that has once been aſked, Whether Pope was a poet? otherwiſe than by aſking in return, If Pope be not a poet, where is poetry to be found? To cir⯑cumſcribe poetry by a definition, will only ſhew the narrowneſs of the definer; though a definition which ſhall exclude Pope will not eaſily be made. Let us look round upon the preſent time, and back upon the paſt; let enquire to whom the voice of mankind has decreed the wreath of poetry; let their productions be examined, and their claims ſtated, and the pretenſions of Pope will be no more diſputed."’

I remember once to have heard Johnſon ſay, ‘"Sir, a thouſand years may elapſe before there ſhall appear another man with a power of verſification equal to that of Pope. That power muſt undoubtedly be allowed its due ſhare in enhancing the value of his captivating compoſition."’

Johnſon, who had done liberal juſtice to Warburton in his edition of Shakſpeare, which was publiſhed during the life of that powerful writer, with ſtill greater liberality took an opportunity of paying the tribute due to him when he was no longer in ‘"high place,"’ but numbered with the dead ⁸.

[353] It ſeems ſtrange, that two ſuch men as Johnſon and Warburton, who lived in the ſame age and country, ſhould not only not have been in any degree of intimacy, but been almoſt perſonally unacquainted. But ſuch inſtances, though we muſt wonder at them, are not rare. If I am rightly informed, after a careful inquiry, they never met but once, which was at the houſe of Mrs. French, in London, well known for her elegant aſſemblies, and bringing eminent characters together. The interview proved to be mutually agreeable.

I am well informed, that Warburton ſaid of Johnſon, ‘"I admire him, but I cannot bear his ſtyle:"’ and that Johnſon being told of this, ſaid, ‘"That is exactly my caſe as to him."’ The manner in which he expreſſed his admi⯑ration of the fertility of Warburton's genius and of the variety of his materials, was, ‘"The table is always full, Sir. He brings things from the north, and the ſouth, and from every quarter. In his 'Divine Legation,' you are always entertained. He carries you round and round, without carrying you forward to the point; but then you have no wiſh to be carried forward."’ He ſaid to the Reverend Mr. Strahan, ‘"Warburton is perhaps the laſt man who has written with a mind full of reading and reflection."’

It is remarkable, that in the Life of Broome, Johnſon takes notice of Dr. Warburton's uſing a mode of expreſſion which he himſelf uſed, and that not ſeldom, to the great offence of thoſe who did not know him. Having occaſion to mention a note, ſtating the different parts which were executed by the aſſociated tranſlators of ‘"The Odyſſey,"’ he ſays, ‘"Dr. Warburton told me, in his warm language, that he thought the relation given in the note a lie."’ The language is warm indeed; and, I muſt own, cannot be [354] juſtified in conſiſtency with a decent regard to the eſtabliſhed forms of ſpeech. Johnſon had accuſtomed himſelf to uſe the word lie, to expreſs a miſtake or an errour in relation; in ſhort, when the thing was not ſo as told, though the relator did not mean to deceive. When he thought there was intentional falſehood in the relator, his expreſſion was, ‘"He lies, and he knows he lies."’

Speaking of Pope's not having been known to excel in converſation, Johnſon obſerves, that ‘"traditional memory retains no ſallies of raillery, or ſentences of obſervation; nothing either pointed or ſolid, wiſe or merry; and that one apophthegm only is recorded."’ In this reſpect, Pope differed widely from Johnſon, whoſe converſation was, perhaps, more admirable than even his writings, however excellent. Mr. Wilkes has, however, favoured me with one repartee of Pope, of which Johnſon was not informed. Johnſon, after juſtly cenſuring him for having ‘"nurſed in his mind a fooliſh diſ-eſteem of Kings,"’ tells us, ‘"yet a little regard ſhewn him by the Prince of Wales melted his obduracy; and he had not much to ſay when he was aſked by his Royal Highneſs, how he could love a Prince, while he diſliked Kings?"’ The anſwer which Pope made, was, ‘"The young lion is harmleſs, and even playful; but when his claws are full grown he becomes cruel▪ dreadful, and miſchievous."’

But although we have no collection of Pope's ſayings, it is not therefore to be concluded, that he was not agreeable in ſocial intercourſe; for Johnſon himſelf has been heard to ſay, that ‘"the happieſt converſation is that of which nothing is diſtinctly remembered but a general effect of pleaſing impreſſion."’ The late Lord Somerville ⁹, who ſaw much both of great and brilliant life, told me, that he had dined in company with Pope, and that after dinner the little man, as he called him, drank his bottle of Burgundy, and was exceedingly gay and entertaining.

I cannot with-hold from my great friend a cenſure of at leaſt culpable inattention, to a nobleman, who, it has been ſhewn, behaved to him with uncommon politeneſs. He ſays, ‘"Except Lord Bathurſt, none of Pope's [355] noble friends were ſuch as that a good man would wiſh to have his inti⯑macy with them known to poſterity."’ This will not apply to Lord Mansfield, who was not ennobled in Pope's life-time; but Johnſon ſhould have recol⯑lected, that Lord Marchmont was one of thoſe noble friends. He includes his Lordſhip along with Lord Bolingbroke, in a charge of neglect of the papers which Pope left by his will; when, in truth, as I myſelf pointed out to him, before he wrote that poet's life, the papers were ‘"committed to the ſole care and judgement of Lord Bolingbroke, unleſs he (Lord Bolingbroke) ſhall not ſurvive me;"’ ſo that Lord Marchmont had no concern whatever with them. After the firſt edition of the Lives, Mr. Malone, whoſe love of juſtice is equal to his accuracy, made, in my hearing, the ſame remark to Johnſon; yet he omitted to correct the erroneous ſtatement. Theſe particulars I mention, in the belief that there was only forgetfulneſs in my friend; but I owe this much to the Earl of Marchmont's reputation, who, were there no other memorials, will be immortaliſed by that line of Pope, in the verſes on his Grotto:

In the Life of ADDISON we find an unpleaſing account of his having lent Steele a hundred pounds, and ‘"reclaimed his loan by an execution."’ In the new edition of the Biographia Britannica, the authenticity of this anecdote is denied. But Mr. Malone has obliged me with the following note concerning it:

The laſt paragraph of this note is of great importance; and I requeſt that my readers may conſider it with particular attention. It will be afterwards referred to in this work.

In his Life of PARNELL, I wonder that Johnſon omitted to inſert an Epitaph which he had long before compoſed for that amiable man, without ever writing it down, but which he was ſo good as, at my requeſt, to dictate me, by which means it has been preſerved.

In the Life of BLACKMORE, we find that writer's reputation generouſly cleared by Johnſon, from the cloud of prejudice which the malignity of con⯑temporary wits had raiſed around it. In this ſpirited exertion of juſtice, he has been imitated by Sir Joſhua Reynolds, in his praiſe of the architecture of Vanburgh.

We trace Johnſon's own character in his obſervation on Blackmore's ‘"magnanimity as an authour."’—‘"The inceſſant attacks of his enemies, whether ſerious or merry, are never diſcovered to have diſturbed his quiet, or to have leſſened his confidence in himſelf."’ Johnſon, I recollect, once told me, laughing heartily, that he underſtood it had been ſaid of him, ‘"He appears not to feel; but, when he is alone, depend upon it, he ſuffers ſadly."’ I am as certain as I can be of any man's real ſentiments, that he enjoyed the perpetual ſhower of little hoſtile arrows, as evidences of his fame.

In the Life of LYTTELTON, Johnſon ſeems to have been not favourably diſpoſed towards that nobleman. Mrs. Thrale ſuggeſts that he was offended by Molly Aſton's preference of his Lordſhip to him ². I can by no means [361] join the cenſure beſtowed by Johnſon on his Lordſhip, whom he calls ‘"poor Lyttelton,"’ for returning thanks to the Critical Reviewers, for having ‘"kindly commended"’ his ‘"Dialogues of the Dead."’ Such ‘"acknowledgements (ſays my friend) never can be proper, ſince they muſt be paid either for flattery or for juſtice."’ In my opinion, the moſt upright man, who has been tried on a falſe accuſation, may, when he is acquitted, make a bow to his jury. And when thoſe who, no matter by what right, are ſo much the arbiters of literary merit, as in a conſiderable degree to influence the publick opinion, review an authour's work, placido lumine, when I am afraid mankind in general are better pleaſed with ſeverity, he may ſurely expreſs a grateful ſenſe of their civility.

As the introduction to his critical examination of the genius and writings of YOUNG, he did Mr. Herbert Croft, then a Barriſter of Lincoln's-inn, now a clergyman, the honour to adopt a Life of Young written by that gentleman, who was the friend of Dr. Young's ſon, and wiſhed to vindicate him from ſome very miſtaken remarks to his prejudice. Mr. Croft's performance was ſubjected to the reviſion of Dr. Johnſon, as appears from the following note to Mr. John Nichols:

‘"This Life of Dr. Young was written by a friend of his ſon. What is croſſed with black is expunged by the authour, what is croſſed with red is expunged by me. If you find any thing more that can be well omitted, I ſhall not be ſorry to ſee it yet ſhorter."’

It has always appeared to me to have a conſiderable ſhare of merit, and to diſplay a pretty ſucceſsful imitation of Johnſon's ſtyle. When I mentioned this to a very eminent literary character, he oppoſed me vehemently, ex⯑claiming, ‘"No, no, it is not a good imitation of Johnſon; it has all his pomp without his force; it has all the nodoſities of the oak without its ſtrength."’ This was an image ſo happy, that one might have thought he would have [362] been ſatisfied with it; but he was not. And ſetting his mind again to work, he added, with exquiſite felicity, ‘"It has all the contortions of the Sybil, without the inſpiration."’

Mr. Croft very properly guards us againſt ſuppoſing that Young was a gloomy man; and mentions, that ‘"his pariſh was indebted to the good⯑humour of the authour of the 'Night Thoughts' for an Aſſembly and a Bowling-Green."’ A letter from a noble foreigner is quoted, in which he is ſaid to have been ‘"very pleaſant in converſation."’

Mr. Langton, who frequently viſited him, informs me, that there was an air of benevolence in his manner, but that he could obtain from him leſs information than he had hoped to receive from one who had lived ſo much in intercourſe with the brighteſt men of what has been called the Auguſtan age of England; and that he ſhewed a degree of eager curioſity concerning the common occurrences that were then paſſing, which appeared ſome⯑what remarkable in a man of ſuch intellectual ſtores, of ſuch an advanced age, and who had retired from life with declared diſappointment in his expectations.

An inſtance at once of his penſive turn of mind, and his cheerfulneſs of temper, appeared in a little ſtory which he himſelf told to Mr. Langton, when they were walking in his garden: ‘"Here (ſaid he) I had put a handſome ſun-dial, with this inſcription, Eheu fugaces! which (ſpeaking with a ſmile) was ſadly verified, for by the next morning my dial had been carried off."’

It gives me much pleaſure to obſerve, that however Johnſon may have caſually talked, yet when he ſits, as ‘"an ardent judge zealous to his truſt, giving ſentence,"’ upon the excellent works of Young, he allows them the high praiſe to which they are juſtly entitled. ‘"The Univerſal Paſſion (ſays he) is indeed a very great performance,—his diſtichs have the weight of ſolid ſentiment, and his points the ſharpneſs of reſiſtleſs truth."’

But I was moſt anxious concerning Johnſon's deciſion upon ‘"Night Thoughts,"’ which I eſteem as a maſs of the grandeſt and richeſt poetry that human genius has ever produced; and was delighted to find this character of that work: ‘"In his 'Night Thoughts' he has exhibited a very wide diſplay of original poetry, variegated with deep reflections and ſtriking alluſions; a wilderneſs of thought, in which the fertility of fancy ſcatters flowers of every hue and of every odour. This is one of the few poems in which blank verſe could not be changed for rhime but with diſadvantage."’ And afterwards, ‘"Particular lines are not to be regarded, the power is in the whole, and in [363] the whole there is a magnificence like that aſcribed to Chineſe plantation, the magnificence of vaſt extent and endleſs diverſity."’

But there is in this Poem not only all that Johnſon ſo well brings in view, but a power of the Pathetick beyond almoſt any example that I have ſeen. He who does not feel his nerves ſhaken, and his heart pierced by many paſſages in this extraordinary work, particularly by that moſt affecting one, which deſcribes the gradual torment ſuffered by the contemplation of an object of affectionate attachment, viſibly and certainly decaying into diſſolution, muſt be of a hard and obſtinate frame.

To all the other excellencies of ‘"Night Thoughts,"’ let me add the great and peculiar one, that they contain not only the nobleſt ſentiments of virtue, and the immortality of the ſoul, but the Chriſtian Sacrifice, the Divine Propi⯑tiation, with all its intereſting circumſtances, and conſolations to ‘"a wounded ſpirit,"’ ſolemnly and poetically diſplayed in ſuch imagery and language, as cannot fail to exalt, animate, and ſoothe the truly pious. No book whatever can be recommended to young perſons, with better hopes of ſeaſoning their minds with vital religion than YOUNG'S ‘"NIGHT THOUGHTS."’

In the Life of SWIFT, it appears to me that Johnſon had a certain degree of prejudice againſt that extraordinary man, of which I have elſewhere had occaſion to ſpeak. Mr. Thomas Sheridan imputed it to a ſuppoſed appre⯑henſion in Johnſon, that Swift had not been ſufficiently active in obtaining for him an Iriſh degree when it was ſolicited ³, but of this there was not ſufficient evidence; and let me not preſume to charge Johnſon with injuſtice, becauſe he did not think ſo highly of the writings of this authour, as I have done from my youth upwards. Yet that he had an unfavourable bias is evident, were it only from that paſſage in which he ſpeaks of Swift's practice of ſaving, as, ‘"firſt ridiculous and at laſt deteſtable;"’ and yet after ſome examination of circumſtances, finds himſelf obliged to own, that ‘"it will perhaps appear that he only liked one mode of expence better than another, and ſaved merely that he might have ſomething to give."’

One obſervation which Johnſon makes in Swift's life ſhould be often inculcated: ‘"It may be juſtly ſuppoſed, that there was in his converſation what appears ſo frequently in his letters, an affectation of familiarity with the great, an ambition of momentary equality, ſought and enjoyed by the neglect of thoſe ceremonies which cuſtom has eſtabliſhed as the barriers between one order of ſociety and another. This tranſgreſſion of regularity was by himſelf and his admirers termed greatneſs of ſoul; but a great mind diſdains to hold [364] any thing by courteſy, and therefore never uſurps what a lawful claimant may take away. He that encroaches on another's dignity puts himſelf in his power; he is either repelled with helpleſs indignity, or endured by clemency and condeſcenſion."’

I have not confined myſelf to the order of the ‘"Lives,"’ in making my few remarks. Indeed a different order is obſerved in the original publication, and in the collection of Johnſon's Works. And ſhould it be objected, that many of my various readings are inconſiderable, thoſe who make the objection will be pleaſed to conſider, that ſuch ſmall particulars are intended for thoſe who are nicely critical in compoſition, to whom they will be an acceptable ſelection.

[365] ‘"Spence's Anecdotes,"’ which are frequently quoted and referred to in Johnſon's ‘"Lives of the Poets,"’ are in a manuſcript collection, made by the Reverend Dr. Joſeph Spence, containing a number of particulars concerning eminent men. To each anecdote is marked the name of the perſon on whoſe authority it is mentioned. This valuable collection is the property of the Duke of Newcaſtle, who upon the application of Sir Lucas Pepys, was pleaſed to permit it to be put into the hands of Dr. Johnſon, who I am ſorry to think made but an aukward return. ‘"Great aſſiſtance (ſays he) has been given me by Mr. Spence's Collection, of which I conſider the communi⯑cation as a favour worthy of publick acknowledgement;"’ but he has not owned to whom he was obliged; ſo that the acknowledgement is unap⯑propriated to his Grace.

While the world in general was filled with admiration of Johnſon's ‘"Lives of the Poets,"’ there were narrow circles in which prejudice and reſentment were foſtered, and from whence attacks of different ſorts iſſued againſt him. By ſome violent Whigs he was arraigned of injuſtice to Milton; by ſome Cambridge men of depreciating Gray, and his expreſſing with a dignified freedom what he really thought of George, Lord Lyttelton, gave offence to ſome of the friends of that nobleman, and particularly produced a declaration of war againſt him from Mrs. Montague, the ingenious Eſſayiſt on Shakſpeare, between whom and his Lordſhip a commerce of reciprocal compliments had long been carried on. In this war the ſmaller powers in alliance with him were of courſe led to engage, at leaſt on the defenſive, and thus I for one, was excluded from the enjoyment of ‘"A Feaſt of Reaſon,"’ ſuch as Mr. Cumberland has deſcribed, with a keen, yet juſt and delicate pen, in his ‘"OBSERVER."’ Theſe minute inconveniencies gave not the leaſt diſturbance to Johnſon. He nobly ſaid, when I talked to him of the feeble, though ſhrill outcry which had been raiſed, ‘"Sir, I conſidered myſelf as entruſted with a certain portion of truth. I have given my opinion ſincerely; let them ſhew where they think me wrong."’

While my friend is thus contemplated in the ſplendour derived from his laſt and perhaps moſt admirable work, I introduce him with peculiar propriety as the correſpondent of WARREN HASTINGS, a man whoſe regard reflects dignity even upon JOHNSON; a man, the extent of whoſe abilities was equal to that of his power; and who, by thoſe who are fortunate enough to know him in private life, is admired for his literature and taſte, and beloved for the candour, moderation, and mildneſs of his character. Were I capable of paying a ſuitable tribute of admiration to him, I ſhould certainly not with⯑hold [366] it at a moment⁴ when it is not poſſible that I ſhould be ſuſpected of being an intereſted flatterer. But how weak would be my voice after that of the millions whom he governed. His condeſcending and obliging com⯑pliance with my ſolicitation, I with humble gratitude acknowledge; and while by publiſhing his letter to me, accompanying the valuable communication, I do eminent honour to my great friend, I ſhall entirely diſregard any invidious ſuggeſtions, that as I in ſome degree participate in the honour, I have, at the ſame time, the gratification of my own vanity in view.

The laſt of the three letters thus graciouſly put into my hands, and which has already appeared in publick, belongs to this year; but I ſhall previouſly inſert the two firſt in the order of their dates. They altogether form a grand group in my biographical picture.

I wrote to him in February, complaining of having been troubled by a recurrence of the perplexing queſtion of Liberty and Neceſſity—and men⯑tioning that I hoped ſoon to meet him again in London.

On Monday, March 19, I arrived in London, and on Tueſday, the 20th, met him in Fleet-ſtreet, walking, or rather indeed moving along; for his [371] march is thus deſcribed in a very juſt and pictureſque manner, in a ſhort Life ⁸ of him publiſhed by Kearſley, very ſoon after his death: ‘"When he walked the ſtreets, what with the conſtant roll of his head, and the con⯑comitant motion of his body, he appeared to make his way by that motion, independent of his feet."’ That he was often much ſtared at while he advanced in this manner, may eaſily be believed; but it was not ſafe to make ſport of one ſo robuſt as he was. Mr. Langton ſaw him one day, in a fit of abſence, by a ſudden ſtart, drive the load off a porter's back, and walk forward briſkly, without being conſcious of what he had done. The porter was very angry, but ſtood ſtill, and eyed the huge figure with much earneſt⯑neſs, till he was ſatisfied that his wiſeſt courſe was to be quiet, and take up his burthen again.

Our accidental meeting in the ſtreet after a long ſeparation was a pleaſing ſurprize to us both. He ſtepped aſide with me into Falcon-court, and made kind inquiries about my family, and as we were in a hurry going different ways, I promiſed to call on him next day; he ſaid he was engaged to go out in the morning. ‘"Early, Sir."’ ſaid I. JOHNSON. ‘"Why, Sir, a London morning does not go with the ſun."’

I waited on him next evening, and he gave me a quantity of his original manuſcript of his ‘"Lives of the Poets,"’ which he had preſerved for me.

I found that his friend, Mr. Thrale, was now very ill, and had removed, I ſuppoſe by the ſolicitation of Mrs. Thrale, to a houſe in Groſvenor-ſquare. I was ſorry to find him ſadly changed in his appearance.

He told me I might now have the pleaſure to ſee Dr. Johnſon drink wine again, for he had lately returned to it. When I mentioned this to Johnſon, he ſaid, ‘"I drink it now ſometimes, but not ſocially."’ The firſt evening that I was with him at Thrale's, I obſerved he poured a quantity of it into a large glaſs, and ſwallowed it greedily. Every thing about his character and manners was forcible and violent; there never was any moderation; many a day did he faſt, many a year did he refrain from wine; but when he did eat, it was voraciouſly; when he did drink wine, it was copiouſly. He could practiſe abſtinence, but not temperance.

[372] Mrs. Thrale and I had a diſpute, whether Shakſpeare or Milton had drawn the moſt admirable picture of a man ⁹ ▪ I was for Shakſpeare; Mrs. Thrale for Milton; and upon a fair hearing, Johnſon decided for my opinion.

I told him of one of Mr. Burke's playful ſallies upon Dean Marlay. ‘"I don't like the Deanery of Ferns, it ſounds ſo like a barren title."’—‘"Dr. Heath ſhould have it;"’ ſaid I. Johnſon laughed, and condeſcending to trifle in the ſame mode of conceit, ſuggeſted Dr. Moſs.

He ſaid, ‘"Mrs. Montagu has dropt me. Now, Sir, there are people whom one ſhould like very well to drop, but would not wiſh to be dropped by."’ He certainly was vain of the ſociety of ladies, and could make himſelf very agreeable to them when he choſe it; Sir Joſhua Reynolds agreed with me that he could. Mr. Gibbon, with his uſual ſneer, controverted it, perhaps in reſentment of Johnſon's having talked with ſome diſguſt of his uglineſs, which one ſhould think a philoſopher would not mind. Dean Marlay wittily obſerved, ‘"A lady may be vain when ſhe can turn a wolf-dog into a lap-dog."’

The election for Ayrſhire, my own county, was this ſpring tried upon a petition, before a Committee of the Houſe of Commons. I was one of the Counſel for the ſitting member, and took the liberty of previouſly ſtating different points to Johnſon, who never failed to ſee them clearly, and to ſupply me with ſome good hints. He dictated to me the following note upon the regiſtration of deeds:

‘"ALL laws are made for the convenience of the community; what is legally done, ſhould be legally recorded, that the ſtate of things may be [373] known, and that wherever evidence is requiſite, evidence may be had. For this reaſon, the obligation to frame and eſtabliſh a legal regiſter is enforced by a legal penalty, which penalty is the want of that perfection and plenitude of right which a regiſter would give. Thence it follows, that this is not an objection merely legal; for the reaſon on which the law ſtands being equitable, makes it an equitable objection."’

‘"This (ſaid he) you muſt enlarge on, when ſpeaking to the Committee. You muſt not argue there, as if you were arguing in the ſchools; cloſe reaſoning will not fix their attention; you muſt ſay the ſame thing over and over again, in different words. If you ſay it but once, they miſs it in a moment of inattention. It is unjuſt, Sir, to cenſure lawyers for multiplying words when they argue; it is neceſſary for them to multiply words."’

His notion of the duty of a member of Parliament, ſitting upon an election committee was very high; and when he was told of a gentleman upon one of thoſe committees, who read the newſpapers part of the time, and ſlept the reſt, while the merits of a vote were examined by the counſel, and as an excuſe, when challenged by the chairman for ſuch behaviour, bluntly anſwered, ‘"I had made up my mind upon that caſe."’ Johnſon, with an indignant contempt, ſaid, ‘"If he was ſuch a rogue as to make up his mind upon a caſe without hearing it, he ſhould not have been ſuch a fool as to tell it."’—‘"I think (ſaid Mr. Dudley Long) the Doctor has pretty plainly made him out to be both rogue and fool."’

Johnſon's profound reverence for the Hierarchy made him expect from Biſhops the higheſt degree of decorum; he was offended even at their going to taverns; ‘"A biſhop (ſaid he) has nothing to do at a tippling-houſe. It is not indeed immoral in him to go to a tavern; neither would it be immoral in him to whip a top in Groſvenor-ſquare. But, if he did, I hope the boys would fall upon him and apply the whip to him. There are gradations in conduct; there is morality—decency—propriety. None of theſe ſhould be violated by a biſhop. A biſhop ſhould not go to a houſe where he may meet a young fellow leading out a wench."’ BOSWELL. ‘"But, Sir, every tavern does not admit women."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Depend upon it, Sir, any tavern will admit a well-dreſt man and a well-dreſt woman; they will not perhaps admit a woman whom they ſee every night walking by their door, in the ſtreet. But a well-dreſt man may lead in a well-dreſt woman to any tavern in London. Taverns ſell meat and drink, and will ſell them to any body who can eat and can drink. You may as well ſay that a mercer will not ſell ſilks to a woman of the town."’

[374] He alſo diſapproved of biſhops going to routs, at leaſt of their ſtaying at them longer than their preſence commanded reſpect. He mentioned a particular biſhop. ‘"Poh (ſaid Mrs. Thrale) the Biſhop of—is never minded at a rout."’ BOSWELL. ‘"When a Biſhop places himſelf in a ſituation where he has no diſtinct character, and is of no conſequence, he degrades the dignity of his order."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Mr. Boſwell, Madam, has ſaid it as correctly as could be."’

Nor was it only in the dignitaries of the Church that Johnſon required a particular decorum and delicacy of behaviour; he juſtly conſidered that the clergy, as men ſet apart for the ſacred office of ſerving at the altar, and impreſſing the minds of men with the aweful concerns of a future ſtate, ſhould be ſomewhat more ſerious than the generality of mankind, and have a ſuitable compoſure of manners. A due ſenſe of the dignity of their profeſſion, independent of higher motives, will ever prevent them from loſing their diſtinction in an indiſcriminate ſociality; and did ſuch as affect this, know how much it leſſens them in the eyes of thoſe whom they think to pleaſe by it, they would feel themſelves much mortified.

Johnſon, and his friend, Beauclerk, were once together in company with ſeveral clergymen, who thought they ſhould appear to advantage, by aſſuming the lax jollity of men of the world; which, as it may be obſerved in ſimilar caſes, they carried to noiſy exceſs. Johnſon, who they expected would be enter⯑tained, ſate grave and ſilent for ſome time; at laſt, turning to Beauclerk, he ſaid, by no means in a whiſper, ‘"This merriment of parſons is mighty offenſive."’

Even the dreſs of a clergyman ſhould be in character, and nothing can be more deſpicable than conceited at [...]empts at avoiding the appearance of the clerical order; attempts, which are as ineffectual as they are pitiful. Dr. Porteus, now Biſhop of London, in his excellent charge when preſiding over the dioceſe of Cheſter, juſtly animadverts upon this ſubject; and obſerves of a reverend ſop, that he ‘"can be but half a beau."’

Addiſon, in ‘"The Spectator,"’ has given us a fine portrait of a clergy⯑man, who is ſuppoſed to be a member of his Club; and Johnſon has ex⯑hibited a model, in the character of Mr. Mudge ¹, which has eſcaped the collectors of his works, but which he owned to me, and which indeed he ſhewed to Sir Joſhua Reynolds at the time when it was written. It bears the genuine marks of Johnſon's beſt manner, and is as follows:

[376] On Friday, March 30, I dined with him at Sir Joſhua Reynolds's, with the Earl of Charlemont, Sir Anneſley Stewart, Mr. Eliot, of Port-Eliot, Mr. Burke, Dean Marlay, now Biſhop of Clonfert, Mr. Langton; a moſt agreeable day, of which I regret that every circumſtance is not preſerved; but it is unreaſonable to require ſuch a multiplication of felicity.

Mr. Eliot, with whom Dr. Walter Harte had travelled, talked to us of his ‘"Hiſtory of Guſtavus Adolphus,"’ which he ſaid was a very good book in the German tranſlation. JOHNSON. ‘"Harte was exceſſively vain. He put copies of his book in manuſcript into the hands of Lord Cheſterfield and Lord Granville, that they might reviſe it. Now, how abſurd was it to ſuppoſe that two ſuch noblemen would reviſe ſo big a manuſcript. Poor man! he left London the day of the publication of his book, that he might be out of the way of the great praiſe he was to receive; and he was aſhamed to return, when he found how ill his book had ſucceeded. It was unlucky in coming out on the ſame day with Robertſon's 'Hiſtory of Scotland.' His huſbandry, however, is good."’ BOSWELL. ‘"So he was fitter for that than for heroick hiſtory. He did well when he turned his ſword into a plough⯑ſhare."’

Mr. Eliot mentioned a curious liquor peculiar to his country, which the Corniſh fiſhermen drink. They call it Mahogany; and it is made of two parts gin, and one part treacle, well beat together. I begged to have ſome of it made, which was done with proper ſkill by Mr. Eliot. I thought it very good liquor; and ſaid it was a counterpart of what is called Athol Porridge in the Highlands of Scotland, which is a mixture of whiſky and honey. Johnſon ſaid, ‘"that muſt be a better liquor than the Corniſh, for both its component parts are better."’ He alſo obſerved, ‘"Mahogany muſt be a modern name; for it was not long ſince the wood called mahogany was known in this country."’ I mentioned his ſcale of liquors;—claret for boys—port for men—brandy for heroes. ‘"Then (ſaid Mr. Burke) let me have claret: I love to be a boy; to have the careleſs gaiety of boyiſh days."’ JOHNSON. ‘"I ſhould drink claret too, if it would give me that; but it does not: it neither makes boys men, nor men boys. You'll be drowned by it before it has any effect upon you."’

I ventured to mention a ludicrous paragraph in the news-papers, that Dr. Johnſon was learning to dance of Veſtris. Lord Charlemont, wiſhing to excite him to talk, propoſed, in a whiſper, that he ſhould be aſked, whether it was true. ‘"Shall I aſk him?"’ ſaid his Lordſhip. We were, by a great majority, clear for the experiment. Upon which his Lordſhip very gravely [377] and with a courteous air ſaid, ‘"Pray, Sir, is it true that you are taking leſſons of Veſtris?"’ This was riſking a good deal, and required the boldneſs of a General of Iriſh Volunteers to make the attempt. Johnſon was at firſt ſtartled, and in ſome heat anſwered, ‘"How can your Lordſhip aſk ſo ſimple a queſtion?"’ But immediately recovering himſelf, whether from unwillingneſs to be deceived, or to appear deceived, or whether from real good humour, he kept up the joke: ‘"Nay, but if any body were to anſwer the paragraph, and contradict it, I'd have a reply, and would ſay, that he who contradicted it was no friend either to Veſtris or me. For why ſhould not Dr. Johnſon add to his other powers a little corporeal agility? Socrates learnt to dance at an advanced age, and Cato learnt Greek at an advanced age. Then it might proceed to ſay, that this Johnſon, not content with dancing on the ground, might dance on the rope; and they might introduce the elephant dancing on the rope. A nobleman wrote a play, called 'Love in a hollow Tree.' He found out that it was a bad one, and therefore wiſhed to buy up all the copies, and burn them. The Ducheſs of Marlborough had kept one; and when he was againſt her at an election, ſhe had a new edition of it printed, and prefixed to it, as a frontiſpiece, an elephant dancing on a rope; to ſhew, that his Lordſhip's writing comedy was as aukward as an elephant dancing on a rope."’

On Sunday, April 1, I dined with him at Mr. Thrale's, with Sir Philip Jennings Clerk and Mr. Perkins, who had the ſuperintendence of Mr. Thrale's brewery, with a ſalary of five hundred pounds a year. Sir Philip had the appearance of a gentleman of ancient family, well advanced in life. He wore his own white hair in a bag of goodly ſize, a black velvet coat, with an embroidered waiſtcoat, and very rich laced ruffles; which Mrs. Thrale ſaid were old faſhioned, but which, for that reaſon, I thought the more reſpectable, more like a Tory; yet Sir Philip was then in oppoſition in parliament. ‘"Ah, Sir, (ſaid Johnſon,) ancient ruffles and modern principles do not agree."’ Sir Philip defended the oppoſition to the American war ably and with temper, and I joined him. He ſaid, the majority of the nation was againſt the miniſtry. JOHNSON. ‘"I, Sir, am againſt the miniſtry; but it is for having too little of that of which oppoſition thinks they have too much. Were I miniſter, if any man wagged his finger againſt me, he ſhould be turned out; for that which it is in the power of Government to give at pleaſure to one or to another, ſhould be given to the ſupporters of Govern⯑ment. If you will not oppoſe at the expence of loſing your place, your oppoſition will not be honeſt, you will feel no ſerious grievance; and the [378] preſent oppoſition is only a conteſt to get what others have. Sir Robert Walpole acted as I would do. As to the American war, the ſenſe of the nation is with the miniſtry. The majority of thoſe who can underſtand is with it; the majority of thoſe who can only hear is againſt it; and as thoſe who can only hear are more numerous than thoſe who can underſtand, and oppo⯑ſition is always loudeſt, a majority of the rabble will be for oppoſition."’

This boiſterous vivacity entertained us; but the fact really was, that thoſe who could underſtand the beſt were againſt the American war, as almoſt every man now is, when the queſtion has been coolly conſidered.

Mrs. Thrale gave high praiſe to a gentleman of our acquaintance. JOHNSON. ‘"Nay, my dear lady, don't talk ſo. Mr. ****'s character is very ſhort. It is nothing. He fills a chair. He is a man of a genteel appearance, and that is all. I know nobody who blaſts by praiſe as you do: for whenever there is exaggerated praiſe, every body is ſet againſt a character. They are provoked to attack it. Now there is *****: you praiſed that man with ſuch diſproportion, that I was incited to leſſen him, perhaps more than he deſerves. His blood is upon your head. By the ſame principle, your malice defeats itſelf; for your cenſure is too violent. And yet (looking to her with a leering ſmile) ſhe is the firſt woman in the world could ſhe but reſtrain that wicked tongue of hers—ſhe would be the only woman could ſhe but command that little whirligig."’

Upon the ſubject of exaggerated praiſe I took the liberty to ſay, that I thought there might be very high praiſe given to a known character which deſerved it, and therefore it would not be exaggerated. Thus, one might ſay of Mr. Edmund Burke, He is a very wonderful man. JOHNSON. ‘"No, Sir, you would not be ſafe if another man had a mind perverſely to contra⯑dict. He might anſwer, Where is all the wonder? Burke is, to be ſure, a man of uncommon abilities, with a great quantity of matter in his mind, and a great fluency of language in his mouth. But we are not be ſtunned and aſtoniſhed by him. So you ſee, Sir, even Burke would ſuffer, not from any fault of his own, but from your folly."’

Mrs. Thrale mentioned a gentleman who had acquired a fortune of four thouſand a year in trade, but was abſolutely miſerable, becauſe he could not talk in company; ſo miſerable, that he was impelled to lament his ſituation in the ſtreet to ******, whom he hates, and who he knows deſpiſes him. ‘"I am a moſt unhappy man (ſaid he). I am invited to converſations. I go to converſations; but, alas! I have no converſation."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Man commonly cannot be ſucceſsful in different ways. This gentleman has ſpent, [379] in getting four thouſand pounds a year, the time in which he might have learnt to talk; and now he cannot talk."’ Mr. Perkins made a ſhrewd and droll remark: ‘"If he had got his four thouſand a year as a mountebank, he might have learnt to talk at the ſame time that he was getting his fortune."’

Some other gentlemen came in. The converſation concerning the perſon whoſe character Dr. Johnſon had treated ſo ſlightingly, as he did not know his merit, was reſumed. Mrs. Thrale ſaid, ‘"You think ſo of him, Sir, becauſe he is quiet, and does not exert himſelf with force. You'll be ſaying the ſame thing of Mr. ***** there, who ſits as quiet—"’ This was not well bred; and Johnſon did not let it paſs without correction. ‘"Nay, Madam, what right have you to talk thus? Both Mr. ***** and I have reaſon to take it ill. You may talk ſo of Mr. *****: but why do you make me do it. Have I ſaid any thing againſt Mr. *****. You have ſet him, that I might ſhoot him: but I have not ſhot him."’

One of the gentlemen ſaid, he had ſeen three folio volumes of Dr. Johnſon's ſayings collected by me. ‘"I muſt put you right, Sir (ſaid I); for I am very exact in authenticity. You could not ſee folio volumes, for I have none: you might have ſeen ſome in quarto and octavo. This is inattention which one ſhould guard againſt."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Sir, it is a want of concern about veracity. He does not know that he ſaw any volumes. If he had ſeen them he could have remembered their ſize."’

Mr. Thrale appeared very lethargick to-day. I ſaw him again on Monday evening, at which time he was not thought to be in immediate danger; but early in the morning of Wedneſday the 4th, he expired. Johnſon was in the houſe, and thus mentions the event: ‘"I felt almoſt the laſt flutter of his pulſe, and looked for the laſt time upon the face that for fifteen years had never been turned upon me but with reſpect and benignity ⁸."’ Upon that day there was a Call of the LITERARY CLUB; but Johnſon apologiſed for his abſence by the following note:

[380] Mr. Thrale's death was a very eſſential loſs to Johnſon, who, although he did not foreſee all that afterwards happened, was ſufficiently convinced that the comforts which Mr. Thrale's family afforded him would now in a great meaſure ceaſe. He, however, continued to ſhew a kind attention to his widow and children as long as it was acceptable; and he took upon him, with a very earneſt concern, the office of one of his executors, the importance of which ſeemed greater than uſual to him, from his circumſtances having been always ſuch that he had ſcarcely any ſhare in the real buſineſs of life. His friends of the CLUB were in hopes that Mr. Thrale might have made a liberal proviſion for him for his life, which, as Mr. Thrale left no ſon, and a very large fortune, it would have been highly to his honour to have done; and, conſidering Dr. Johnſon's age, could not have been of long duration: but he bequeathed him only two hundred pounds, which was the legacy given to each of his executors. I could not but be ſomewhat diverted by hearing Johnſon talk in a pompous manner of his new office, and particularly of the concerns of the brewery, which it was at laſt reſolved ſhould be ſold. Lord Lucan tells a very good ſtory, which, if not preciſely exact, is certainly characteriſtical: that when the ſale of Thrale's brewery was going forward, Johnſon appeared buſtling about, with an ink-horn and pen in his button-hole, like an exciſe⯑man; and on being aſked what he really conſidered to be the value of the property which was to be diſpoſed of, anſwered, ‘"We are not here to ſell a parcel of boilers and vats, but the potentiality of growing rich, beyond the dreams of avarice."’

On Friday, April 6, he carried me to dine at a club, which, at his deſire, had been lately formed at the Queen's Arms, in St. Paul's Church-yard. He told Mr. Hoole, that he wiſhed to have a City Club, and aſked him to collect one; but, ſaid he, ‘"Don't let them be patriots."’ The company to-day were very ſenſible well-behaved men. I have preſerved only two particulars of his converſation. He ſaid, he was glad Lord George Gordon had eſcaped, rather than that a precedent ſhould be eſtabliſhed for hanging a man for conſtructive treaſon; which, in conſiſtency with his true, manly, conſtitutional Toryiſm, he conſidered would be a dangerous engine of arbi⯑trary power. And upon its being mentioned that an opulent and very indolent Scotch nobleman, who totally reſigned the management of his affairs to a man of knowledge and abilities, had claimed ſome merit by ſaying, ‘"The next beſt thing to managing a man's own affairs well, is being ſenſible of incapacity, and not attempting it, but having full confidence in one who can do it."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Nay, Sir, this is paltry. There is a [381] middle courſe. Let a man give application, and depend upon it he will ſoon get above a deſpicable ſtate of helpleſſneſs, and attain the power of acting for himſelf."’

On Saturday, April 7, I dined with him at Mr. Hoole's, with Governour Boucher and Captain Orme, both of whom had been long in the Eaſt-Indies; and being men of good ſenſe and obſervation, were very entertaining. Johnſon defended the oriental regulation of different caſts of men, which was objected to as totally deſtructive of the hopes of riſing in ſociety by perſonal merit. He ſhewed that there was a principle in it ſufficiently plauſible by analogy. ‘"We ſee (ſaid he) in metals that there are different ſpecies; and ſo likewiſe in animals, though one ſpecies may not differ very widely from another, as in the ſpecies of dogs—the cur, the ſpaniel, the maſtiff. The Bramins are the maſtiffs of mankind."’

On Thurſday, April 12, I dined with him at a Biſhop's, where were Sir Joſhua Reynolds, Mr. Berrenger, and ſome more company. He had dined the day before at another Biſhop's. I have unfortunately recorded none of his converſation at the Biſhop's where we dined together: but I have preſerved his ingenious defence of his dining twice abroad in Paſſion-week; a laxity, in which I am convinced he would not have indulged himſelf at the time when he wrote his ſolemn paper in ‘"The Rambler,"’ upon that aweful ſeaſon. It appeared to me, that by being much more in company, and enjoying more in luxurious living, he had contracted a keener reliſh of pleaſure, and was conſequently leſs rigorous in his religious rites. This he would not acknowledge; but he reaſoned, with admirable ſophiſtry, as follows: ‘"Why, Sir, a Biſhop's calling company together in this week, is, to uſe the vulgar phraſe, not the thing. But you muſt conſider laxity is a bad thing; but preciſeneſs is alſo a bad thing; and your general character may be more hurt by preciſeneſs than by dining with a Biſhop in Paſſion-week. There might be a handle for reflection. It might be ſaid, 'He refuſed to dine with a Biſhop in Paſſion-week, but was three Sundays abſent from church."’ BOSWELL. ‘"Very true, Sir. But ſuppoſe a man to be uniformly of good conduct, would it not be better that he ſhould refuſe to dine with a Biſhop in this week, and ſo not encourage a bad practice by his example?"’ JOHNSON. ‘"Why, Sir, you are to conſider whether you might not do more harm by leſſening the influence of a Biſhop's character by your diſapprobation in refuſing him, than by going to him."’

On Friday, April 13, being Good-Friday, I went to St. Clement's-church with him, as uſual. There I ſaw again his old fellow-collegian, Edwards, to whom I ſaid, ‘"I think Sir, Dr. Johnſon and you meet only at church."’—‘"Sir (ſaid he) it is the beſt place we can meet in except Heaven, and I hope we ſhall meet there too."’ Dr. Johnſon told me that there was very little com⯑munication between Edwards and him, after their unexpected renewal of acquaintance. ‘"But (ſaid he, ſmiling) he met me once, and ſaid, 'I am told you have written a very pretty book called The Rambler.' I was un⯑willing that he ſhould leave the world in total darkneſs, and ſent him a ſet."’

Mr. Berrenger viſited him to-day, and was very pleaſing. We talked of an evening ſociety for converſation at a houſe in town, of which we were all members, but of which Johnſon ſaid, ‘"It will never do, Sir. There is nothing ſerved about there, neither tea, nor coffee, nor lemonade, nor any [383] thing whatever; and depend upon it, Sir, a man does not love to go to a place from whence he comes out exactly as he went in.’ I endeavoured for argument's ſake, to maintain that men of learning and talents might have very good intellectual ſociety, without the aid of any little gratifications of the ſenſes. Berrenger joined with Johnſon, and ſaid that without theſe any meeting would be dull and inſipid. He would therefore have all the ſlight refreſhments; nay, it would not be amiſs to have ſome cold meat, and a bottle of wine upon a ſide-board. ‘"Sir, (ſaid Johnſon to me, with an air of triumph,) Mr. Berrenger knows the world. Every body loves to have good things furniſhed to them without any trouble. I told Mrs. Thrale once, that as ſhe did not chooſe to have card-tables, ſhe ſhould have a profuſion of the beſt ſweetmeats, and ſhe would be ſure to have company enough come to her."’ The event proved the juſtice of Johnſon's opinion, as to the im⯑practicability of getting people to meet, when they know there is abſolutely nothing to touch the palate; for this Society, though held at the houſe of a perſon deſervedly much eſteemed, and compoſed of very eminent men, could not be preſerved from gradual decay.

On Sunday, April 15, being Eaſter-day, after ſolemn worſhip in St. Paul's church, I found him alone; Dr. Scott, of the Commons, came. He talked of its having been ſaid, that Addiſon wrote ſome of his beſt papers in ‘"The Spectator,"’ when warm with wine. Dr. Johnſon did not ſeem willing to admit this. Dr. Scott, as a confirmation of it related, that Blackſtone compoſed his ‘"Commentaries"’ with a bottle of port before him.

I told him, that in a company where I had lately been, a deſire was expreſſed to know his authority for the ſhocking ſtory of Addiſon's ſending an execution into Steele's houſe. ‘"Sir (ſaid he) it is generally known, it is known to all who are acquainted with the literary hiſtory of that period. It is as well known, as that he wrote 'Cato."’ Mr. Thomas Sheridan once defended Addiſon to me, by alledging that he did it in order to cover Steele's goods from other creditors, who were going to ſeize them.

We talked of the difference between the mode of education at Oxford, and that in the Colleges, where inſtruction is chiefly conveyed by lectures. JOHNSON. ‘"Lectures were once uſeful; but now, when all can read, and books are ſo numerous, lectures are unneceſſary. If your attention fails, and you miſs a part of a lecture, it is loſt, you cannot go back as you do upon a book."’ Dr. Scott agreed with him. ‘"But yet (ſaid I) Dr. Scott, you yourſelf gave lectures at Oxford."’ He ſmiled. ‘"You laughed then (ſaid I) at thoſe who came to you."’

[384] Dr. Scott left us, and ſoon afterwards we went to dinner. Our company conſiſted of Mrs. Williams, Mrs. Deſmoulins, Mr. Levett, Mr. Allen, the printer, and Mrs. Hall, ſiſter of the Reverend Mr. John Weſley, and reſembling him, as I thought, both in figure and manner. Johnſon produced now, for the firſt time, ſome handſome ſilver ſalvers, which he told me he had bought fourteen years ago; ſo it was a great day. I was not a little amuſed by obſerving Allen perpetually ſtruggling to talk in the manner of Johnſon, like the little frog in the fable, blowing himſelf up to reſemble the ſtately ox.

I mentioned a kind of religious Robinhood Society, which met every Sunday evening, at Coachmakers'-hall, for free debate; and that the ſubject for this night was, the text which relates, with other miracles, which hap⯑pened at our SAVIOUR'S death, ‘"And the graves were opened, and many bodies of the ſaints which ſlept aroſe, and came out of the graves after his reſurrection, and went into the holy city, and appeared unto many."’ Mrs. Hall ſaid it was a very curious ſubject, and ſhe ſhould like to hear it diſcuſſed. JOHNSON. (ſomewhat warmly) ‘"One would not go to ſuch a place to hear it—one would not be ſeen in ſuch a place—to give coun⯑tenance to ſuch a meeting."’ I, however, reſolved that I would go. ‘"But Sir, (ſaid ſhe to Johnſon,) I ſhould like to hear you diſcuſs it."’ He ſeemed reluctant to engage in it. She talked of the reſurrection of the human race in general, and maintained that we ſhall be raiſed with the ſame bodies. JOHNSON. ‘"Nay, Madam, we ſee that it is not to be the ſame body; for the Scripture uſes the illuſtration of grain ſown, and we know that the grain which grows is not the ſame with what is ſown. You cannot ſuppoſe that we ſhall riſe with a diſeaſed body; it is enough if there be ſuch a ſameneſs as to diſtinguiſh identity of perſon."’ She ſeemed deſirous of knowing more, but he left the queſtion in obſcurity.

Of apparitions, he obſerved, ‘"A total diſbelief of them is adverſe to the opinion of the exiſtence of the ſoul between death and the laſt day; the queſtion ſimply is, whether departed ſpirits ever have the power of making themſelves perceptible to us; a man who thinks he has ſeen an apparition, can only be convinced himſelf; his authority will not convince another, and his conviction, if rational, muſt be founded on being told ſomething which cannot be known but by ſupernatural means."’

He mentioned a thing as not unfrequent, of which I had never heard before—being called, that is, hearing one's name pronounced by the voice of a known perſon at a great diſtance, far beyond the poſſibility of being reached [385] by any ſound, uttered by human organs. ‘"An acquaintance, on whoſe veracity I can depend, told me, that walking home one evening to Kilmar⯑nock, he heard himſelf called from a wood, by the voice of a brother who had gone to America; and the next packet brought accounts of that brother's death."’ Macbean aſſerted that this inexplicable calling was a thing very well known. Dr. Johnſon ſaid, that one day at Oxford, as he was turning the key of his chamber, he heard his mother diſtinctly call Sam. She was then at Lichfield; but nothing enſued. This phaenomenon is, I think, as wonderful as any other myſterious fact, which many people are very ſlow to believe, or rather, indeed, reject with an obſtinate contempt.

Some time after this, upon his making a remark which eſcaped my attention, Mrs. Williams and Mrs. Hall were both together ſtriving to anſwer him. He grew angry, and called out loudly, ‘"Nay, when you both ſpeak at once it is intolerable."’ But checking himſelf, and ſoftening, he ſaid, ‘"This one may ſay, though you are ladies."’ Then he brightened into gay humour, and addreſſed them in the words of one of the ſongs in ‘"The Beggar's Opera,"’

‘"What, Sir, (ſaid I,) are you going to turn Captain Macheath?"’ There was ſomething as pleaſantly ludicrous in this ſcene as can be imagined. The contraſt between Macheath, Polly, and Lucy—and Dr. Samuel Johnſon, blind, peeviſh Mrs. Williams, and lean, lank, preaching Mrs. Hall, was exquiſite.

I ſtole away to Coachmaker's-hall, and heard the difficult text of which we had talked, diſcuſſed with great decency, and ſome intelligence, by ſeveral ſpeakers. There was a difference of opinion as to the appearance of ghoſts in modern times, though the arguments for it, ſupported by Mr. Addiſon's authority, preponderated. The immediate ſubject of debate was embarraſſed by the bodies of the ſaints having been ſaid to riſe, and by the queſtion what became of them afterwards; did they return again to their graves? Or were they tranſlated to Heaven? Only one evangeliſt mentions the fact ⁹, and the commentators whom I have looked at, do not make the paſſage clear. There is, however, no occaſion for our underſtanding it farther, than to know that it was one of the extraordinary manifeſtations of divine power, which accompanied the moſt important event that ever happened.

[386] On Friday, April 20, I ſpent with him one of the happieſt days that I remember to have enjoyed in the whole courſe of my life. Mrs. Garrick, whoſe grief for the loſs of her huſband was, I believe, as ſincere as wounded affection and admiration could produce, had this day, for the firſt time ſince his death, a ſelect party of his friends to dine with her. The company was Miſs Hannah More, who lived with her, and whom ſhe called her Chaplain; Mrs. Boſcawen, Mrs. Elizabeth Carter, Sir Joſhua Reynolds, Dr. Burney, Dr. Johnſon, and myſelf. We found ourſelves very elegantly entertained at her houſe in the Adelphi, where I have paſſed many a pleaſing hour with him ‘"who gladdened life."’ She looked very well, talked of her huſband with complacency, and while ſhe caſt her eyes on his portrait, which hung over the chimney-piece, ſaid, that ‘"death was now the moſt agreeable object to her."’ The very ſemblance of David Garrick was cheering. Mr. Beauclerk, with happy propriety, inſcribed under that fine portrait of him, which by Lady Diana's kindneſs is now the property of my friend Mr. Langton, the following paſſage from his beloved Shakſpeare:

We were all in fine ſpirits; and I whiſpered to Mrs. Boſcawen, ‘"I believe this is as much as can be made of life."’ In addition to a ſplendid enter⯑tainment, we were regaled with Lichfield ale, which had a peculiar appro⯑priated value. Sir Joſhua, and Dr. Burney, and I, drank cordially of it to Dr. Johnſon's health; and though he would not join us, he as cordially anſwered, ‘"Gentlemen, I wiſh you all as well as you do me."’

The general effect of this day dwells upon my mind in fond remem⯑brance; but I do not find much converſation recorded. What I have preſerved ſhall be faithfully given.

[387] Somebody mentioned Mr. Thomas Hollis, the ſtrenuous Whig, who uſed to ſend over Europe preſents of democratical books, with their boards ſtamped with daggers and caps of liberty. Mrs. Carter ſaid, ‘"He was a bad man. He uſed to talk uncharitably."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Poh! poh! Madam; who is the worſe for being talked of uncharitably? Beſides, he was a dull poor creature as ever lived. And I believe he would not have done harm to a man whom he knew to be of very oppoſite principles to his own. I remember once at the Society of Arts, when an advertiſement was to be drawn up, he pointed me out as the man who could do it beſt. This, you will obſerve was kindneſs to me. I however ſlipt away and eſcaped it."’

Mrs. Carter having ſaid of a certain perſon, ‘"I doubt he was an Atheiſt."’ JOHNSON. ‘"I don't know that. He might perhaps have become one, if he had had time to ripen, (ſmiling). He might have exuberated into an Atheiſt."’

Sir Joſhua Reynolds praiſed ‘"Mudge's Sermons."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Mudge's Sermons' are good, but not practical. He graſps more ſenſe than he can hold; he takes more corn than he can make into meal; he opens a wide proſpect, but it is ſo diſtant, it is indiſtinct. I love 'Blair's Sermons.' Though the dog is a Scotchman, and a Preſbyterian, and every thing he ſhould not be, I was the firſt to praiſe them. Such was my candour."’ (ſmiling). MRS. BOSCAWEN. ‘"Such his great merit to get the better of all your pre⯑judices."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Why, Madam, let us compound the matter; let us aſcribe it to my candour, and his merit."’

In the evening we had a large company in the drawing-room, ſeveral ladies, the Biſhop of Killaloe, D. Percy, Mr. Chamberlayne, of the Treaſury, &c. &c. Somebody ſaid the life of a mere literary man could not be very entertaining. JOHNSON. ‘"But it certainly may. This is a remark which has been made, and repeated, without juſtice; why ſhould the life of a literary man be leſs entertaining than the life of any other man? Are there not as intereſting varieties in ſuch a life? As a literary life it may be very entertaining."’ BOSWELL. ‘"But it muſt be better ſurely, when it is diverſified with a little active variety—ſuch as his having gone to Jamaica;—or—his having gone to the Hebrides."’ Johnſon was not diſpleaſed at this.

Talking of a very reſpectable authour, he told us a curious circumſtance in his life, which was, that he had married a printer's devil. REYNOLDS. ‘"A printer's devil, Sir! Why, I thought a printer's devil was a creature with a black face and in rags."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Yes, Sir. But I ſuppoſe, he had her face waſhed, and put clean clothes on her. (Then looking very [388] ſerious, and very earneſt) And ſhe did not diſgrace him—the woman had a bottom of good ſenſe."’ The word bottom thus introduced, was ſo ludicrous, when contraſted with his gravity, that moſt of us could not forbear tittering and laughing, though I recollect that the Biſhop of Killaloe kept his coun⯑tenance with perfect ſteadineſs, while Miſs Hannah More ſlyly hid her face behind a lady's back who ſate on the ſame ſettee with her. His pride could not bear that any expreſſion of his ſhould excite ridicule, when he did not intend it; he therefore reſolved to aſſume and exerciſe deſpotick power, glanced ſternly around, and called out in a ſtrong tone, ‘"Where's the merriment?"’ Then collecting himſelf, and looking aweful, to make us feel how he could impoſe reſtraint, and as it were ſearching his mind for a ſtill more ludicrous word, he ſlowly pronounced, ‘"I ſay the woman was fundamentally ſenſible;"’ as if he had ſaid, hear this now, and laugh if you dare. We all ſat compoſed as at a funeral.

He and I walked away together; we ſtopped a little while by the rails of the Adelphi, looking on the Thames, and I ſaid to him with tenderneſs, that I thought of two friends we had loſt, who once lived in the buildings behind us, Beauclerk and Garrick. ‘"Aye, Sir, (ſaid he, tenderly,) and two ſuch friends as cannot be ſupplied."’

For ſome time after this day I did not ſee him very often, and of the converſation which I did enjoy, I am ſorry to find I have preſerved but little. I was at this time engaged in a variety of other matters, which required exertion and aſſiduity, and neceſſarily occupied almoſt all my time.

One day having ſpoken very freely of thoſe who were then in power, he ſaid to me, ‘"Between ourſelves, Sir, I do not like to give oppoſition the ſatisfaction of knowing how much I diſapprove of the miniſtry."’ And when I mentioned that Mr. Burke had boaſted how quiet the nation was in George the Second's reign, when Whigs were in power, compared with the preſent reign, when Tories governed. ‘"Why, Sir, (ſaid he,) you are to conſider that Tories having more reverence for government, will not oppoſe with the ſame violence as Whigs, who being unreſtrained by that principle, will oppoſe by any means."’

This month he loſt not only Mr. Thrale, but another friend, Mr. William Strahan, Junior, printer, the eldeſt ſon of his old and conſtant friend, Printer to his Majeſty.

On Tueſday, May 8, I had the pleaſure of again dining with him and Mr. Wilkes, at Mr. Dilly's. No negotiation was now required to bring them together; for Johnſon was ſo well ſatisfied with the former interview, that he was very glad to meet Wilkes again, who was this day ſeated between Dr. Beattie and Dr. Johnſon; (between Truth and Reaſon, as General Paoli ſaid, when I told him of it). WILKES. ‘"I have been thinking, Dr. Johnſon, that there ſhould be a bill brought into parliament that the controverted elections for Scotland ſhould be tried in that country, at their own Abbey of Holy-Rood Houſe, and not here; for the conſequence of trying them here is, that we have an inundation of Scotchmen, who come up and never go back again. Now here is Boſwell, who has come up upon the election for his own county, which will not laſt a fortnight."’ JOHNSON. ‘"Nay, Sir, I ſee no reaſon why they ſhould be tried at all; for, you know, one Scotchman is as good as another."’ WILKES. ‘"Pray, Boſwell, how much may be got in a year by an Advocate at the Scotch bar?"’ BOSWELL. ‘"I believe two thouſand pounds."’ WILKES. ‘"How can it be poſſible to ſpend that money in Scot⯑land?"’ JOHNSON. ‘"Why, Sir, the money may be ſpent in England: but there is a harder queſtion. If one man in Scotland gets poſſeſſion of two thouſand pounds, what remains for all the reſt of the nation?"’ WILKES. ‘"You know, in the laſt war, the immenſe booty which Thurot carried off [390] from the complete plunder of ſeven Scotch iſles. He re-imbarked with three and ſix-pence."’ Here again Johnſon and Wilkes joined in extravagant ſportive raillery upon the ſuppoſed poverty of Scotland, which Dr. Beattie and I did not think it worth our while to diſpute.

The ſubject of quotation being introduced, Mr. Wilkes cenſured it as pedantry. JOHNSON. ‘"No, Sir, it is a good thing; there is a community of mind in it. Claſſical quotation is the parole of literary men all over the world."’ WILKES. ‘"Upon the continent they all quote the vulgate Bible. Shakſpeare is chiefly quoted here; and we quote alſo Pope, Prior, Butler, Waller, and ſometimes Cowley."’

We talked of Letter-writing. JOHNSON. ‘"It is now become ſo much the faſhion to publiſh letters, that in order to avoid it, I put as little into mine as I can."’ BOSWELL. ‘"Do what you will, Sir, you cannot avoid it. Should you even write as ill as you can, your letters would be publiſhed as curioſities. 'Behold a miracle! inſtead of wit 'See two dull lines with Stanhope's pencil writ."’

He gave us an entertaining account of Bet Flint, a woman of the town, who, with ſome eccentrick talents and much effrontery, forced herſelf upon his acquaintance. ‘"Bet (ſaid he) wrote her own Life in verſe ¹, which ſhe brought to me, wiſhing that I would furniſh her with a Preface to it (laughing). I uſed to ſay of her, that ſhe was generally ſlut and drunkard—occaſionally, whore and thief. She had, however, genteel lodgings, a ſpinnet on which ſhe played, and a boy that walked before her chair. Poor Bet was taken up on a charge of ſtealing a counterpane, and tried at the Old-Bailey. Chief Juſtice—, who loved a wench, ſummed up favourably, and ſhe was acquitted. After which, Bet ſaid, with a gay and ſatisfied air, 'Now that the counterpane is my own, I ſhall make a petticoat of it."’

Talking of oratory, Mr. Wilkes deſcribed it as accompanied with all the charms of poetical expreſſion. JOHNSON. ‘"No, Sir; oratory is the power [391] of beating down your adverſary's arguments, and putting better in their place."’ WILKES. ‘"But this does not move the paſſions."’ JOHNSON. ‘"He muſt be a weak man who is to be ſo moved."’ WILKES. (naming a cele⯑brated orator) ‘"Amidſt all the brilliancy of—'s imagination, and the exuberance of his wit, there is a ſtrange want of taſte. It was obſerved of Apelles's Venus, that her fleſh ſeemed as if ſhe had been nouriſhed by roſes: his oratory would ſometimes make one ſuſpect that he eats potatoes and drinks whiſky."’

Mr. Wilkes obſerved, how tenacious we are of forms in this country, and gave us an inſtance, the vote of the Houſe of Commons for remitting money to pay the army in America in Portugal pieces, when, in reality, the remit⯑tance is made not in Portugal money but in our own ſpecie. JOHNSON. ‘"Is there not a law, Sir, againſt exporting the current coin of the realm?"’ WILKES. ‘"Yes, Sir: but might not the Houſe of Commons, in caſe of real evident neceſſity, order our own current coin to be ſent into our own colonies?"’—Here Johnſon, with that quickneſs of recollection which diſtin⯑guiſhed him ſo eminently, gave the Middleſex Patriot an admirable retort upon his own ground. ‘"Sure, Sir, you don't think a reſolution of the Houſe of Commons equal to the law of the land."’ WILKES. (at once perceiving the application) ‘"GOD forbid, Sir."’—To hear what had been treated with ſuch violence in ‘"The Falſe Alarm,"’ now turned into pleaſant repartee, was extremely agreeable. Johnſon went on—‘"Locke obſerves well, that a pro⯑hibition to export the current coin is impolitick; for when the balance of trade happens to be againſt a ſtate, the current coin muſt be exported."’

Mr. Beauclerk's great library was this ſeaſon ſold in London by auction. Mr. Wilkes ſaid, he wondered to find in it ſuch a numerous collection of ſermons, ſeeming to think it ſtrange that a gentleman of Mr. Beauclerk's character in the gay world, ſhould have choſen to have many compoſitions of that kind. JOHNSON. ‘"Why, Sir, you are to conſider, that ſermons make a conſiderable branch of Engliſh literature; ſo that a library muſt be very imperfect if it has not a numerous collection of ſermons ²: and in all [392] collections, Sir, the deſire of augmenting it grows ſtronger in proportion to the advance in acquiſition; as motion is accelerated by the continuance of the impetus. Beſides, Sir, (looking at Mr. Wilkes with a placid but ſignificant ſmile,) a man may collect ſermons with intention of making himſelf better [393] by them. I hope Mr. Beauclerk intended, that ſome time or other that ſhould be the caſe with him."’

Mr. Wilkes ſaid to me, loud enough for Dr. Johnſon to hear, ‘"Dr. Johnſon ſhould make me a preſent of his 'Lives of the Poets,' as I am a poor patriot who cannot afford to buy them."’ Johnſon ſeemed to take no notice of this hint; but in a little while, he called to Mr. Dilly, ‘"Pray, Sir, be ſo good as to ſend a ſet of my Lives to Mr. Wilkes, with my compli⯑ments."’ This was accordingly done; and Mr. Wilkes paid Dr. Johnſon a viſit, was courteouſly received, and ſate with him a long time.

The company gradually dropped away. Mr. Dilly himſelf was called down ſtairs upon buſineſs; I left the room for ſome time; when I returned, I was ſtruck with obſerving Dr. Samuel Johnſon and John Wilkes, Eſq. literally tête à tête; for they were reclined upon their chairs, with their heads leaning almoſt cloſe to each other, and talking earneſtly, in a kind of confidential whiſper, of the perſonal quarrel between George the Second and the King of Pruſſia. Such a ſcene of perfectly eaſy ſociality between two ſuch opponents in the war of political controverſy, as that which I now beheld, would have been an excellent ſubject for a picture. It preſented to my mind the happy days which are foretold in Scripture, when the lion ſhall lye down with the kid ³.

After this day there was another pretty long interval, during which Dr. Johnſon and I did not meet. When I mentioned it to him with regret, he was pleaſed to ſay, ‘"Then, Sir, let us live double."’